Child of Man
by MornieGalad
Summary: The battle at Helms Deep gets a new spin. Who will survive? Will Eowyn fight? Chapter 12 is up and the action continues. Please R&R. MornieGalad
1. Default Chapter

The child of Man

Disclaimer: None of this is mine.

The place was Helms Deep. As night drew nearer Saruman's army hastened toward the fortress. All was chaos as men scrambled to get their weapons and armor before the battle began. As the sun began to sink into the west, only two figures were still and silent. One was seated outside amidst the rushing soldiers. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a man who knew all too well the horror of war. He gazed blankly out at the darkening sky, sending one last prayer to the Valar to allow him to wake from this nightmare. He knew it wouldn't happen, though. He would see one of his closest friends die tonight; he knew not many of the warriors would survive. He was just thankful Eowyn had not been permitted to fight. He did not want to see her injured because of reasons he himself did not wish to contemplate.

* * *

Inside the Glittering Caves, she stood against one of the damp walls. Eowyn knew this was not where she belonged; she should be fighting with the men, aiding her strength to their cause. Theoden had only sent her to the caves because he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, the person he loved most in the world. She sighed as she pulled back her long blonde hair. She had to be there with Aragorn when the battle began. Why did men have to be the only ones to fight?

"Milady," called a young voice. "Come with me quickly." Eowyn followed the voice into a dark tunnel. She could see nothing.

"Where are you leading me?" she inquired.

"Where you wish to go," said the voice coming from ahead of her. If Eowyn could have seen the speaker, she was certain a smile would have been mischievously planted on its young face.

The only sound Eowyn could hear was her own breath as she continued blindly forward. She wasn't frightened, but the tunnel seemed to be almost vertical, so it was a difficult climb. The rough rocks scraped her bare hands, but Eowyn ignored them. The cold, damp tunnel seemed to continue forever until she saw a faint light in the distance. It was dim and seemed to flicker like a star. Eowyn would have questioned her leader had she not been given a sharp hand sign to be silent, as though the child had guessed her intentions. After a moment, the child left the tunnel and helped Eowyn out.

"Put this on," she whispered, holding a mail shirt out to Eowyn. The woman stood stunned for a moment. "Hurry!" the child hissed. Eowyn thrust it over her head, tossed some armor on and placed a helmet on her head. She grasped a nearby sword. The child turned her head, alarmed, toward the door to the darkened chamber where they were and Eowyn perceived footfalls approaching. She focused on her armor for a second and when she looked up the child was gone. From the battlements she could hear the sound of trumpets heralding an approach. She rushed out to see what was happening, completely forgetting the child.

* * *

"Aragorn, something is amiss here," Legolas pleaded with his friend, concern mounting in his voice. Aragorn cocked a smirk.

"It's called Uruk-hai, Legolas." The elf wasn't amused. "Haldir's here, Legolas. We have a much better chance now."

"It is not entirely for Rohan that I worry. It is for Gondor also." The elf met Aragorn's eyes conveying what he did not say, what he could not bring himself to say. Aragorn, mankind's best hope for unity, would be in the full front of battle fury. Aragorn placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and the elf returned the gesture. Then the trumpets began to sound. Aragorn started off, but Legolas held him back.

"Stay by Gimli or me tonight," he almost begged. Aragorn smiled and nodded. If there was more time before the battle he would have told Legolas something that would secure the future of Gondor. Time, however, had run out for such purposes.


	2. The Battle

**Chapter 2 The Battle**

The rain kerplunked off the helmets of the two armies. Legolas, however,

preferred not to have his head covered so he could feel the rain in his hair. He gazed over the swarm of Uruks progressing toward the fortress.

"You could have picked a better spot," Gimli complained, knocking the elf out of his own thoughts. The elf forced a smile, hoping Gimli couldn't sense his fear for Aragorn. 'Focus,' he ordered himself as he heard Gimli and Aragorn chatting beside him.

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn."

"Let's hope they last the night." Legolas silently agreed with the dwarf.

* * *

Further down the lines, Eowyn was more than ready to fight. No one had recognized her, so she was now at the full front of the wrath of Isengard. She glanced over the once beautiful landscape that was now flooded with the vile Uruk-hai. Even now she could hear their morbid battle cries, yelled in the dark tongue. For a few moments, they just stood there, ritually bellowing at the enemy. Then, from the battlements of Helm's Deep, Eowyn saw a single arrow fly. It struck down a single Uruk in the front line with a hit to the neck. The Uruks cried more ferociously than before and then the arrows began to fly. The battle for Helm's Deep had begun.

* * *

"Twenty-one, twenty-two . . ." Gimli counted aloud. From a few feet away, Aragorn couldn't help but smile. The battle had been continuing for nearly three hours and, thus far, all the members of the fellowship were unscathed. He hadn't seen Legolas in a while, but was certain the elf was fine. If he had been injured, the strong bond between them would have informed Aragorn immediately. He kept fighting furiously as Uruks poured up the ladders. Then the call came.

"Fall back to the keep!" Gamling hollered across the battleground. Apparently the battle wasn't going quite as well as Aragorn had been led to believe.

"Come on, Gimli," the Ranger ordered, fighting a path through the Uruks. The dwarf followed, felling the vile creatures left and right.

* * *

Eowyn was high on the battlements massacring any Uruk-hai she saw when the echo of Gamling's call reached her ears. She quickly finished off the charging Uruks and scanned the area for other warriors. Most were already fleeing towards the keep or else dead, but King Theoden's niece didn't want to leave anyone behind. As she peered through the darkness, she saw two soldiers fighting several Uruks in the distance, greatly outnumbered. She rushed toward them, slashing the enemy as she went.

* * *

"Legolas, watch your back!" Haldir yelled. The Mirkwood elf turned just in time to avoid getting slashed in two by an Uruk, who had a pleasant meeting with Legolas's knife, which became imbedded in his throat for a few seconds. It did little good, for soon ten more Uruks took his place. The two elves were being packed into a trap. Legolas felt a sharp pain in his left leg as an Uruk fell. The surprise of the pain distracted him for only a moment, but that was enough.

"Haldir!" Legolas screamed as an Uruk's blade pierced through the Captain of Lorien's head. A look of utter surprise and horror crossed Haldir's face and was mirrored in the eyes of the prince of Mirkwood. Legolas struggled to get to Haldir, but a sea of Uruk-hai barred his way and it would take time to get through them. As Legolas fell several of them, unexpected aid came. A soldier of Rohan snuck up on the unsuspecting Uruks, who were focused on the elves. Soon the Uruks became bored with their casualties and all were either killed or went elsewhere. By the time Legolas reached Haldir, the fellow soldier was already beside the Lorien Elf's limp body. Legolas closed his friend's eyes, and knew that between the darkness and the rain, the human beside him couldn't possibly see the tears that trickled down his elven face.

"Come, Legolas," came the voice of a fellow warrior. The elf rose and tried to run, but fell to the ground in pain, or rather the surprise that he was in pain. Knowing they could not linger, the soldier lifted him and raced toward the keep. Legolas disliked this, but since there were no Uruks threatening them, he decided it would be wiser not to protest. Once they were near enough to the keep, Legolas got down and was able to endure the pain in his leg long enough to get to the keep.

'I have to find Aragorn,' the elf thought and scanned the area anxiously searching for the Ranger.

* * *

"Come on; we can take 'em," Gimli declared eagerly.

"It's a long jump," Aragorn whispered, knowing it was their job to defend the keep, but still concerned for the dwarf. The odds were impossibly against them, which Aragorn was accustomed to, but he despised putting others on the edge of death with him, even if they were willing.

"Toss me,"

"What?" Aragorn could hardly believe he had heard the dwarf correctly, but then again, Legolas wasn't there this time.

"I cannot jump the distance; you'll have to toss me," he whispered loudly. Aragorn bent to do so, not all too eagerly, though. "Don't tell the elf."

"Not a word," promised the human. Then he heaved the dwarf across the chasm and leapt it himself. The fighting was incomparable to any other either party had experienced that night. They were surrounded on all sides by Saruman's foul creations. They fought their way to slaughter the Uruks nearest the entrance, so as to buy the men time to repair the door. Then, after what seemed like eternity, Aragorn heard the king shout for them to get out of there. The Ranger looked to escape the way they had come, but it was barricaded by too many Uruks and overlooked a sharp drop that was impossible to survive. They were trapped.

* * *

Legolas' ears perked up at the sound of Theoden shouting his friend's name.

"Come on," he called to his fellow soldier, who was still with him. The elf ran, ignoring his bleeding leg, followed closely by his comrade. When he reached the wall overlooking the bridge way, he easily spotted Aragorn and Gimli fighting for their lives. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a strong cord that rested nearby.

"Aragorn!" he yelled above the shouts of men and Uruk-hai, tossing the rope to the Ranger who grabbed both it and the dwarf. Legolas began heaving the load upward toward safety. Then the arrows began to fly again.


	3. Doom

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to say I own this, I don't. I've said that for three chapters and will say it until the end. _

_Warning:There will be a character death in this story. I mean besides Haldir, who was mentioned in the last chapter. My apologies for not warning ahead of time about that one. _

Chapter Three: Doom

"Pull them up quickly," the soldier behind Legolas commanded. The elf strained violently to heave his two companions safely through the volley of arrows. Then the unthinkable happened. An Uruk arrow pierced Aragorn's back and time seemed to stop. The ranger locked his eyes with Legolas' horror ridden ones and yelled something which not even Legolas could understand over the battle fury that lingered about them. The elf could read the man's expression, though, for he had seen the same look not long before, on the face of Haldir as he was dying. Aragorn was commanding him to carry on. No, Aragorn, Legolas thought, thrusting the pulley in a final thrust that brought the dwarf and the human to the wall. Legolas grasped Aragorn's hand firmly in his and brought his friend to the firm foundation of Helms Deep. Gimli had jumped from his companion's arms and was already slashing at the unending sea of Uruk-hai.

"Aragorn, le thach dartho hon. Eled nan barad. you must not stay here. Go to the keep" Legolas implored as he stuck an elven knife through a charging Uruk. For a moment, Aragorn's hand rushed to his sword, poised to rejoin the battle.

"Aragorn, please go!" The heir of Isildur sighed and then limped off toward the keep. After a moment's hesitation, the soldier of Rohan slipped off through the enemy lines which surrounded the wall and followed the other man. Only Legolas noticed this, but he said nothing. Even as the Rohirrim soldier faded into the distance, a group of elven warriors raced to the entrance to the stairway that led to the keep, which was only a few feet away from Legolas and Gimli. The elven prince inched his way through the army of Isengard to help his kindred protect the keep.

"Forty-five" Gimli counted and Legolas smiled. He knew the battle was not yet lost.

Eowyn had caught up with Aragorn and was battling hoards of disgusting creatures by his side. She had considered staying to protect the entrance, but could not bear the thought of Aragorn's death lest he be unable to defend himself. Once he was to safety, she would return to the full front of the battle. She looked to Aragorn and could tell he was tiring. She couldn't blame him. He was still losing much blood from the arrow wound in his back. Summoning all of her strength, Eowyn raced at the group of Uruks that were right at the entrance. One by one, they met her slashing blade. After the first wave, they resisted more violently, determined to enter. More than once she nearly lost her footing on the slick stone floor, but to the astonishment of the creatures, the white lady of Rohan could not be stopped. She simply plowed through the Uruks, denying any of them entrance to the keep.

"Come on!" she hollered to Aragorn, who was a few feet behind her as she dashed toward the keep. The man stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. Eowyn grasped hi hand in her gloved one and raced to the keep. They ran together down the stairs, Eowyn constantly peering behind them to see if they were being perused. Fortune blessed them, though, and not one of Saruman's creations followed their steps. When they reached the keep, Theoden was standing, giving orders to bar the gate. For a moment, Aragorn would have drawn his sword and joined the Rohirrim, but his body was too weak. Eowyn led him to a table and lay him, face-down, on it. In a single thrust, she pulled the arrow from his body and proceeded to quickly bandage the wound. She grabbed a nearby rug, which looked exceptionally out of place amidst the battle, tore off a strip, and embalmed the man's wound. Unconsciously, she found herself holding to the Ranger's hand. She finished bandaging him, but was reluctant to leave his side as she had promised herself she would.

"I'll be back," she whispered. Then, certain that her uncle was occupied, she bent and tenderly kissed Aragorn's forehead. In that instant, the ranger realized who this soldier was. He sat up in alarm, causing a sharp pain to course down his back.

"Stay here," Eowyn commanded, forcing the wounded man to lie down. She held his hand for a moment more. Then, she rushed up the stairs, her sword drawn. Aragorn gazed after her for a moment, whispering a prayer to the Valar for her safety.

"Fall back to the keep!" Gamling shouted. It was apparent that his command was directed at the small group consisting of a few elves and a dwarf that still lingered at the entrance. They were attempting to guard the keep from an invasion and were protecting it with their lives. Most of the elves, the best warriors in middle earth, had already fallen. Only Legolas and a few others remained, but they still fought as vigorously as ever. Beneath the feet of the Uruk army, the warriors could see the bodies of their companions. The remainder of the army had been driven into a circle. Beside a few of his fellow elven warriors, Legolas could sense doom bearing down upon them. The end was quite near.


	4. Hope Rides In

Believe it or not I'm not dead and nor are the characters in the story, yet. Living or dead, however, they belong to Tolkien, who is dead, but they are still his forever. Long live Lord of the Rings.

**Chapter Four**

**Hope Rides In**

Just as the small circle of Free Peoples guarding the keep felt they could not hold out against the forces of evil, a ray of light met tehir eyes. It was the first light of dawn and with it came a new defender. Eowyn raced up the stairs and joined the small group at the archway. In the fiant red light, the free peoples and Uruks met in combat for Helm's Deep.

"It is over. The fortress is taken."

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it! They still defend it! They have died defending it!" Aragorn jumped off his table so it could be used to blockade the gate, ignoring the pain the action caused. A short soldier of Rohan rushed it to the gate and pushed with all his might.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" ARagorn demanded.

"There is one passage that leads into the mountains, my lord," replied the short soldier, still guarding the door.

"The Uruk-hai are too many, child," Gamling argued and for the first time, Aragorn realized what he was truly seeing. Before him was a child, no more than ten years of age. This young one had, by some grace, survived the bloody night. For a brief moment Aragorn smiled, gazing into the young eyes of the child. The little soldier smiled back. Then the sound of an army banging against the great gates broke the trance between the two.

"Send word for the women and children to make for the mountain pass and barricade the entrance!" Aragorn hollered to Gamling, who raced off toward the Glittering Caves.

"So much death," Theoden said, as though entranced, reflecting on the events of the past night. "What can man do against such reckless hate?" Aragorn didn't answer right away, but turned his attention to the young, stubborn soldier, again. He determinedly kept his weight against the door, not afraid to let go, but giving his best, even if it made no difference in the end. This child was not a real soldier, Aragorn thought, but had the heart of one. He was willing to die for the ones he loved, but he deserved a chance to live in a world of love and peace. Aragorn wanted to give him the chance. An idea came to him as he watched the child struggle with a few older soldiers who were now braced against the gates.

"Ride out with me," He whispered to Theoden. "Ride out and meet them." His eyes were still focused on the doors.

"For death and glory?"

"For Rohan," Aragorn corrected. "For your people." As he said this, he couldn't help but gesture toward the child who still held the doors against the fell army.

"Yes," Theoden answered determinedly.

"Fetch the horses," Aragorn said, gesturing to the young soldier at the gate. He hesitated, reluctant to leave the doors. Aragorn caught the child's arm gently in his hand.

"You should go down with the women and children."

"My lord, I want to fight." The child looked quite offended and his eyes were filled with a strange light. It wasn't fear, anger, or hatred, but determination and courage.

"You shall blow the horn of Helm Hamerhand, my child," Theoden said, coming up beside Aragorn and kneeling to the child's height. "I would consider it an honor to have such a courageous soldier sound the charge of the Rohirrim."

"Yes, my king," the child said happily, bowing deeply to King Theoden. Then the short soldier raced off to sound the horn of Helm Hammerhand.

"Lord Aragorn, you are wounded," Theoden observed, concernedly.

"It will mend," The ranger said. He couldn't allow himself to think of the pain he was in until the battle had been won. He was focused on mounting Brego, the horse Gamling had brought from the stables. This horse would carry Isildur's heir to victory.

"I seem to have lost count, Master Dwarf," Legolas called to Gimli, determined not to be dismal in what may well be his final moments alive.

"I believe I have as well, lad," the dwarf laughed. The two friends exchanged a brief smile as the morning sun tinted the elf's blonde hair a pinkish hue. Then Legolas' ears detected the sound of a horn.

"The Rohirrim are charging," he said, turning to his left where Eowyn stood, still disguised in her armor. "We won't have to wait much longer." Above the mass of Uruks, Legolas looked out to the main gateway of Helms Deep. He saw Theoden, mounted on his faithful horse, Snowmane, wielding his sword better than Legolas supposed he had in years. Behind him was Gamling, the flag of Rohan in one hand and his sword in the other. Following Gamling was a figure Legolas knew all too well. Genuine terror filled Legolas' eyes as his friend sped Brego on into the mass of Uruk hai. As he watched, the elf felt a sharp pain in his shoulder.

"Legolas!" shouted Eowyn, bringing him back to reality, just as another blow met his arm.

"Aragorn is with them," the elf said, turning to face the soldier of Rohan. Eowyn's eyes mirrored the same horror that marked Legolas' face as she instinctively slashed at innumerable Uruk-hai.

Aragorn looked into the sun, searching for a sign of hope. In the growing light, the ranger could barely distinguish a white horse, bearing the White Rider.

"Gandalf." The wizard nodded as if he had heard Aragorn's whisper. He surveyed the battleground for a moment, assessing the situation.

"Theoden King stands alone."

"Not alone," came a voice. Aragorn saw Gandalf had succeeded in his task, for beside him was Eomer, Captain of the Riders of Rohan, and they with him. Aragorn smiled, but even as he watched the riders charge, he felt Brego sink beneath him.


	5. Hope Fails

_Disclaimer: I can twist and turn this as much as I like, but I will never own it. Oh, yes, a character death will be coming up in a future chapter, so beware. _

_MornieGalad_

_**Chapter Five:Hope Fails**_

Dawn was breaking in Rivendell. Arwen Undomiel stood gazing out to the south. She had not slept all night. She couldn't bear to let her thoughts stray from the man she loved with all her heart, Aragorn Elessar, for whom she would forsake immortality with her people in Valinor. Although she was physically parted from him, she refused to let her thoughts abandon him. This was her only hope. Perhaps somehow she could protect him with her elven strength. She closed her eyes to better focus and she could see his face. Tears filled her eyes. She loved him so deeply and did not know how much longer she could bear to let Sauron keep them apart.

Suddenly Arwen felt intense weakness overcome her. She grasped at the wall to steady herself, but it was too late. She was falling . . . falling. With light headed-ness, she landed on the floor of the balcony. For a moment, all she could see was darkness. Then a blinding light. Slowly Rivendell came into focus again. There was only one thought on her mind: Aragorn.

"Arwen." The voice was her father's. He was kneeling beside her.

"I'm fine, ada," she said, weakly. "Man cenich (what did you see) . . . Aragorn?"

"He is in grave danger, Arwen. I do not know whether he will survive this war as you hope," Elrond sighed. "Hope often fails in these dark days." There was a cold tone in Elrond's voice that pierced his daughter's heart. For a moment, she stared at her father, rage building inside her.

"I don't believe you," she stated, equally coldly.

"There is no hope, Arwen."

"There is still hope."

"Arwen, why must you be so foolish? I want Aragorn to survive this war every bit as much as you do. I love him as a son. I know, though, that much sacrifice is involved in a war."

"You would sacrifice the last hope of man to appease Mordor?"

"Arwen, you know I would never do such a thing."

"You would send Aragorn to his death."

"He volunteered of his own free will."

"He wanted only to do the right thing. He wanted to protect Frodo, when really he should be the one protected and served."

"You and I both know that Aragorn is capable of defending himself and would deny an escort of any kind."

"You should have protected him yourself. You should have gone to Helms Deep to ensure that no evil befell him."

"My place is in Rivendell. I must protect my own people."

"So you would condemn others to die."

"I have done all I can."

"So you have, but I have not. You have kept me here long, ada, but no longer. I am going to Helms Deep." With that, Arwen strode off, leaving Elrond to face into the south.

* * *

Brego gave a whinny of pain. He was dying from the blows of the Uruks. There was nothing Aragorn could do except dismount and continue to fight. The Uruks were gradually dispersing, but there were still many of them. Suddenly Aragorn felt a sharp spear penetrate his armor in his lower back. He turned and slew the Uruk, but the damage was done. He didn't know what would happen. His mind whirled all over and he couldn't think straight. He kept swinging his sword, which was his only hope of survival. Blood was seeping slowly from the wound, staining his armor. Not far away, Aragorn could see Gandalf and Eomer on horseback. His eyes met the wizard's. Gandalf understood that Aragorn was injured an urged Shadowfax toward him through the sea of Uruk-hai. Aragorn knew the wizard would have to hurry, though. He could feel exhaustion overtaking him. He began to fall and lost consciousness in Gandalf's arms.

* * *

Arwen gave a shriek and fell from her horse. With his lightning quick reflexes, Elrohir, who had been helping his sister prepare for her departure, caught her in his arms. Unconscious and limp was her body, devoid of any explanation. As Elrohir tried to revive his sister, Elladen dashed to find their father.

* * *

Breathing hard and in extreme pain, Legolas watched hazily as the Uruks retreated. He had lost so much blood that his vision was bleary and he cold no longer see Aragorn. Not far away, Gimli was laughing with victory, such a hearty sound. No longer conscious of what he was doing, the elf sank to the ground.

"Legolas!" Eowyn shouted, racing to the elf's side. Gimli was close behind her. They reached him and lifted him by the shoulders. "Get him inside."

* * *

They had been granted the victory. Even from the lofty perch high above the battle, the child could hear King Theoden's joyful shouts. They had won. Down the stairs raced the youngling and straight into Eowyn, still fully armored.

"I'm sorry, milady," but Eowyn did not seem to hear. Her back was turned, tending to a figure on the table. Beside her stood a worried dwarf, fiddling with his beard.

"Milady." This time Eowyn turned and the helmet was removed from the child's head. Eowyn's face paled in shock.

"Eolas!" she cried. "Are you injured?"

"No, Milady," she replied. "May I see your comrade?"

"He is of the elven realm," Eowyn explained, reluctantly stepping back so young Eolas could see. Her small eyes filled in wonder as she beheld him. "His name is Legolas." The young Rohirrim stepped toward the unconscious elf, her eyes straying neither to the right or left. They came to rest upon his belt . . .

* * *

The cries of a newborn pierced the silence through a veil of impenetrable light. Amidst the light, a female voice spoke and quieted the screams.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet child. Yes, it's all right. Oh, you will bask in love your whole life, from all the world and me. Your father would love you too, if he knew."

* * *

"Eolas?" Eowyn questioned. The child seemed to have been in a trance, but at the sound of her name, Eolas started. She was back in Helms Deep, the light of the new day seeping in through the windows. Slowly moving toward Legolas, her hand touched his limp right one, unconsciously. His eyes fluttered open, focusing on the child, their blue eyes a few meters apart, yet together, unsure of anything save the other. Cautiously, he arose, his eyes never leaving hers as Eowyn rushed to support him. Recollection returned to him as a gradual dawn, but soon enough, the question came.

"Where is Aragorn?"

* * *

Motionless lay he, as still as death, with Gandalf by his side. Untold mysteries filled the glittering caves, where the wounded were being tended. Unspoken words of the previous night and nights long past loomed in each soldier's mind, including that of the White Wizard. Even for an Istar, there were mysteries which might be eternally doomed to be unsolved. There were even mysteries unknown to him. These were the thoughts which plagued him as he sat beside the heir of Numenor. 


	6. From the Ashes a Fire Shall be Woken

_Disclaimer: I haven't gained any rights to Tolkien's works with my new years acquisitions, so I still don't own any thing. I hope you Eowyn fans will be pleased with the scene between her and Aragorn, who is not dead, in here. I have a few more chapters planned out and written. I wrote them while we were in the car on a very long drive. I was not driving, thankfully. I hope you enjoy this.  
__MornieGalad_

**Chapter Six  
****From the Ashes a Fire Shall be Woken. **

Clang, clang, clang. Thus rang the hammer of the elven smith, piercing the silent twilight. Beside his daughter, Elrond stood. The sword of Elendil shone fiery red. The Elf lord had directed the smithies to make haste, for the small company would depart once the sword was finished. Even then, it might be too late.

* * *

Blinding light was the only visible sight. Surrounded was he by the sea. The waves on the shore filled his mind like a song. Aragorn knew not where he was.

"The heir of Numenor," chanted a voice - female, strong, and soft as silk. "Aragorn Elessar." Could it be his mother? No, he would recognize her voice. The voice did not belong to Arwen either. It was a mystery.

* * *

Beside her father, Arwen was whispering to a little bird. Elrond needed not a word to reach his ears, for he knew his daughter's mind was focused on haste for the one she loved. Haste was her only hope.

* * *

"A little longer," a male voice said throughAragorn's world of light. "His task is not yet finished."

* * *

"Aragorn, Aragorn." The Ranger did not perceive his friend's urgent voice as he sprang into the room. Despite his motionless appearance, Legolas dashed to his side.

"Legolas, please have a seat," Eowyn hollered, desperately from her position approaching him, but the Elf pointedly ignored her. Before Eowyn dashed Eolas, the child, and behind her followed Gimli.

"Mithrandir, mani naa ta?" (What is this?)

"He is facing death, Legolas. He was wounded badly. I rushed to him at all speed, but I fear the wound is lethal. It is a miracle that he yet lives," Gandalf replied in the Elven tongue. Legolas turned his eyes downward to his friend to prevent them from tearing. Eowyn and Gimli exchanged looks of confusion and fear, but the child stood as still as Aragorn.

* * *

The cooing of a newborn pierced the light, which was fading. Eolas could feel arms around her. Her mother sang to her, her father held her, but they were distant somehow, distinctly, fundamentally, different from the child in their arms. Somehow, she knew. She could sense her father's fear, her mother's joy. She somehow believed this situation was abnormal, though, quite unique to her experience.

Coo, coo, the light had returned to its blinding intensity, yet she found no need to squint. Voices surrounded her, loving voices that comforted her and made her feel as if she was a part of them. They spoke to her, around her and in her. In her heart, she knew their words, but their speech could not be deciphered by the intelligence of a mortal.

"She must be sent," one of the masculine voices said, not to her, but to another, unseen being. "We all knew from the beginning that this was to be her purpose. It is the destiny that brought her into being."

"Who is qualified of heart or mind to hold her as I have? Who among those people can love her as I?"

"She will be well cared for until he comes. Then she will discover again all that she knows now." Eolas felt the arms around her release. She was falling, falling, falling from the light.

* * *

"Eolas, what did he say?" Eowyn asked. The child linked and glanced at Legolas. The Elf obviously was too plagued with grief to tell the others the ill news. That duty now fell on her.

"His friend is badly wounded. He may not survive."

"Eolas," a voice from behind them caused Eowyn and Gimli to jump in surprise. It was Eomer. "We must remove the bodies of the dead. Come, Eowyn." The child heeded Eomer, but Eowyn lingered. "Eowyn, Helms Deep must be cleansed." With a final glance at Aragorn, the White Lady turned to follow her brother, tears clinging to her pale blue eyes.

Gimli hesitantly approached the remaining trio.

"Is it as bad as the lass said?"

"I am afraid so," Gandalf sighed.

* * *

Elven bodies were strewn everywhere as were those of the men and Uruk-hai. The child beheld the sight, shocked.

"Come, Eolas," Eomer instructed.

"There are so many of them."

"They died honorably," Eowyn said. Not far away lay the corpse of a child no older than Eolas. Her eyes rested on him.

"We will have time to grieve later. Now we must purge the stench of death from this place," Eomer instructed. The young Rohirrim nodded and set to work along with the other soldiers who were uninjured. They lit a fire on the battlefield for the burning of the Uruk bodies, but the Elves and men they burned separately. It was a tedious job, and it was long after sundown before they halted for the night.

"At dawn we will resume," Eomer ordered. "For now, take some rest." Eowyn nodded, but in her mind, she had no intention of sleeping yet. Eolas saw her turn, but she did not follow. They both needed different things: Eolas to sleep and Eowyn needed to be certain that Aragorn was all right.

* * *

The wizard, the Elf, and the Dwarf were still cluttered around the Ranger when the White Lady entered the room. He had awoken, but was very weak.

"Milord Aragorn."

"Eowyn." She came near and knelt beside him. "Are you well?"

"Yes, milord."

"That is fortunate." He was exhausted, though he disguised it well.

"The fortress is nearly cleansed. We lost many in the battle," Eowyn told him.

"It was an awful affair, one you should not have experienced," Aragorn reprimanded her.

"The darkness is spreading from Mordor and every soldier available will be needed soon. Only a coward would remain in safety when the world is at stake."

"It is not cowardice to obey the command of a superior."

"The Valar are superior even to my King. It was their will that I fight," Eowyn argued.

"Do not presume to know the minds of the Valar," Aragorn snapped. Eowyn drew back in surprise. After a moment, the spell blew over and Aragorn sighed, taking Eowyn's hand in his. "Maybe it was the will of the Valar that you fought, but do not think ill of your king. He does not doubt your skills, nor do I, but it would be the death of him if you were injured." Aragorn's voice softened and his grip on Eowyn's hand tightened slightly. The soft light in his blue eyes seemed to Eowyn to betray his thoughts.

"What of Haldir's army?" Legolas asked, trying to change the subject.

"None survived," Eowyn said, quietly, as if spellbound. Aragorn moved his hand to Legolas' shoulder and the spell was broken. Eowyn noticed that the Elf's face remained unchanged to her untrained eyes. Aragorn however, could tell that his friend was in deep pain. It was obvious in his blue eyes, which seemed to grow deeper with the news of this loss. The door behind them opened and the night breeze rippled through their hair.

"You should rest, Eowyn," Theoden said. "You also, Master Elf. You've not taken sleep since the battle." Legolas glanced briefly at Theoden, but he spoke not. "How is it with you, milord Aragorn?"

"I am surviving." Eowyn's eyes had never left Aragorn, but now he looked into her blue eyes for a short moment. A smile grew on her face.

"We leave for Edoras as soon as the fortress is cleansed. Many of the families are anxious," the king reported, turning to Gandalf. "I would go to Isengard to contend with Saruman. Will you come with us, Gandalf?"

"Leave Saruman for a while yet. He is bereft of power and I fear another conflict will rise that will demand your immediate attention." The king gave Gandalf a questioning look, but the White Wizard gave him no answers. Knowing Gandalf's reputation for wisdom even in silence or unlooked for, King Theoden nodded.

"What conflict do you speak of, Mithrandir?" Legolas pressed, hoping to be more successful than Theoden.

"I do not know for certain." It was obvious to the Elf that Gandalf was not fully disclosing the pure truth of the matter, but the wizard was unwilling to say more.

"I take my leave," Theoden bowed and left the room.

"We should all take our rest," Gandalf advised. Gimli, who had been dozing slightly, took this news with joy and made himself comfortable on a rug. Gandalf positioned himself near the door, but Eowyn and Legolas remained beside Aragorn.

"Estel?" Legolas questioned him.

"Go, mellon nin." With some reluctance, the Elf made his way out into the night. By now, Gimli was snoring and Gandalf seemed asleep.

"You should sleep too, Eowyn. You have had a hard day, if I am not mistaken."

"It was much easier than the one you endured, my lord," she uttered softly.

"Yes, in its own way, I suppose it was, but you bear the burden of the future as well as that of the present. My burden is lightening and soon will be no more." Eowyn shook her head vigorously.

"Say not such things. You have much ahead of you . . ."

"Eowyn," he interrupted. "I shall not live to see another year of this earth, but I do not fear death. All mortals must meet her eventually and my time is upon me."

"There must be someone who can save you."

"Save me? From what do I need to be saved? From pain? Nay, pain will be gone soon enough. Is it from death that I must be delivered? Not so, for none can escape her. Is it regret? My only regret is . . ." He looked into her eyes and paused. "Eowyn, what would you want to be done?"

"I would have you ride out against the forces of Mordor and lead the men in glory to victory over Sauron."

"Victory over the dark lord cannot be achieved through force of arms. The only hope lies in secrecy and the hope of fools. I will ride out, though Eowyn, be it in spirit, or in flesh as you would have it. I will be with the men in spirit."

"You cannot lead them by their spirits alone. They must see you with them, leading them head long into danger. They need to behold a brave warrior, unafraid of the outcome, one with enough courage to risk everything for what he holds dear."

"They have such leaders already. Your uncle is a strong man, as is your brother, Eomer. Both are excellent warriors. Courageous people are not as rare as it may seem in these dark days, Eowyn. I am not the only hope for Middle Earth; I am just a man. I am indeed a man descended of the kings of old, but I am a man nonetheless. I possess no secret power to banish the spirit of fear, or to dispel the darkness and create light. I can hope and do my best, as any man does, to destroy the dark of the world, but I too am limited, just as you are. Yes, I can fight in battle, but I cannot yet raise a family yet, nor will I be able to. I cannot bring hope for the future, for the dark days that follow my passing. Those who remember me will pass on and my memory will slip away from this Middle Earth, never to inspire another soul. Eowyn, you have that ability to bring light and goodness to the future. You will raise children and be strong and courageous, in days of shadow and woe or those of light and joy. Even after you have passed on, Eowyn, your memory will live on in your children and your descendants unto the ending of the world."

"I shall never let you be forgotten, milord," she promised, tears escaping from her eyes. The Ranger smiled.

"Sleep, Eowyn. Do not let your mind or heart be troubled." The White Lady lay down a few feet from Aragorn's bed. Weariness consumed her and soon she slept. The room fell silent and Aragorn slept too.


	7. Lightning Strikes

1_Disclaimer: Although I own Èolas, she is based on Tolkien's world and creations, so I don't really even own her. Other than that, I still own nothing. _

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one. Yes, Legolas is injured, but not severely. _

_MorniëGalad_

**Chapter Seven: **

**Lightning Strikes**

Just before dawn, Legolas returned to check on Aragorn. He was fast asleep, Èowyn a few feet away from him. Finding himself ill at ease, Legolas returned outside. To his surprise, he found Èolas there, staring out at the eastern horizon.

"You should be asleep, young one," he said. To his surprise, she didn't seem startled at his unheralded appearance.

"You should be as well. Your wounds will heal much faster if you rest." Legolas smiled slightly. For a child who had only known him a few hours, she certainly wasn't shy about her opinions, especially considering he was most likely the first Elf she had spoken within her short lifetime.

"Elves don't need much rest, but children who play soldier do." His tone wasn't harsh at all. On the contrary, any passerby might have mistaken him for a father. The child was trembling, he noticed, whether from fear or cold he could not tell. He knelt beside her and met her eyes, just as he had a few hours past as he had woken from sleep. "Are you all right?"

"I had a dream about my parents. It's a memory, really, one I'd all but forgotten. Years ago, we went on a trip, the three of us to . . . strange, I can't remember where we were going." She paused for a moment and Legolas studied her in the waxing light. "It was some distant kingdom. My parents said we were seeking advice, but on the way there, we were ambushed by Orcs. We must have been just outside the borders of Rohan, for my father ushered me into an abandoned house before the Orcs noticed me. I could see through the cracks in the woodwork as the Orcs chopped my parents to pieces, slowly, mercilessly, limb by limb. There was nothing I could do, for I had no weapon. They had my father in chains, but, oh, how he struggled. It cost a few of them their pitiful lives to chain my mother and, in the end, they didn't bother. They just sheered her legs off. That's when I saw Lord Mandos. I don't know how I recognized him, but I did. I don't think the Orcs saw him because they didn't run like they should have. I silently cried out to him to save my parents, but he did nothing to stop the Orcs. It seemed like hours before the whole matter was finished, and maybe it was." She leaned against the wall. "I don't know why I thought of them today."

"Where did you go afterward?" the Elf inquired, genuine curiosity filling his voice.

"Hama, King Theoden's gatekeeper, found me in his cousin's house. He decided to adopt me as his daughter. I suppose you know . . ." she trailed off and Legolas nodded. Hama's body had been among the first to be found. He now saw this child in a new light and needed no explanation for her desire to fight.

"Such a difficult life for one so young," he commented to himself. Èolas said nothing. The dawn was rising red now, reflecting off her dark hair. In the battlements of Helms Deep, Legolas could hear the awakening of the soldiers. Soon they would resume their unhappy duties from the past day. "Young Èolas, rest. I fear your strength will soon be needed again." The child was indeed drowsing so Legolas, cautious of his wound, lifted her and carried her back to the room in which Aragorn slept. He found a vacant cot and laid her on it. The others slept still, save Gandalf, who was nowhere to be seen. Legolas quietly left the room to seek him.

At that very moment, Gandalf was searching for Théoden. He found him rousing the soldiers, mustering them for their labor among the dead.

"Théoden King, I must speak with you in private. There is an urgent matter at hand." They took a few steps back into a corridor. Neither noticed the Elf's silent approach.

"The realm of Lòthlòrien has been attacked by Sauron. His forces are mounting and the Elves do not possess the strength to repel him for long. The Lady Galadriel has asked for Rohan to send aid," Gandalf reported. The king's expression remained unchanged.

"Lorien has been sieged?" Legolas echoed in shock, making himself known.

"I am sorry to say so," Gandalf sighed.

"King Théoden, you must send aid."

"Master Elf, we ourselves have enough troubles to deal with. Our lands are plagued by the shadow of Saruman. Only by a slight chance has Rohan escaped the defeat of good and the rise of evil. Our men are weary. They mourn their dead and their courage is being stretched to the limit as it is. If it breaks, they will flee like sheep without a shepherd. They need time to rest, to be at peace."

"There can be no peace until this war is won," Legolas argued, his blue eyes flashing. Gandalf put a hand on the Elf's arm in an attempt to dissuade him from continuing.

"Ah, yes. That is what the wise would say. Yet, if I am not mistaken, your people live in Lorien, the Elven folk. If they desire peace so badly, let them retreat to their ships and sail into bliss. Why should they heed the suffering of others?"

"They came to your aid here at Helms Deep. They shed their blood for the freedom of your people although you asked not for their aid. Not one of them survived."

"Now you accuse me. You blame me. I did not ask them to come!"

"Shallow minded human! I cannot and do not accuse you. I do not blame you for the deaths of my kindred, but I cannot let their blood be spilt unacknowledged! It was for your men, women, and children, and for all of Middle Earth that they left the beauty of their own land to stop the shadow! In their hearts, they knew the right course of action was the one they followed. Now their lands that they loved are threatened, lacking the defense of the warriors who died here, and you presume to turn a blind eye. Your arrogant attitude could be the small, seemingly unimportant flicker of movement that knocks victory from the knife's edge and plunges the world into shadow!" Gandalf stared at Legolas in shocked silence. Legolas, characteristically calm, controlled Legolas, was hollering at the king of Rohan, a fire in his eyes that was seldom seen. Théoden was treading on hot coals.

"Are you so arrogant, master Elf, that you perceive your species as important as that? Lorien is a falling kingdom, the Elves are a decaying race, an echo of what they once were rumored to be. They may lend their weak strength upon occasion, but in the broad scheme of this world, they are unimportant. I will not send my men to die for the protection of the spring snow, which with one day's heat from the sun is seen no more."

"If the Elves had said such a thing of humans, the battle of Helms Deep would never have been won. You yourself would lie dead where they do now."

"Your words mean nothing."

"They are the truth that you refuse to see because it pains you to accept that you needed help. Your pride, if you refuse to yield, will be the cause of the fall of innocent lives, far too many innocent lives. Can you live with that guilt on your conscience?" Théoden glared at the Elf. "How can you let Lòthlòrien fall?" The Elf's passionate anger had nearly driven him to tears, for he found himself utterly at a loss to understand Théoden. The king, realizing that the soldiers were congregating about them, lowered his tone.

"Let the other Elves help them. They have warriors and we must heed our own troubles." Legolas shook his head.

"Mirkwood is constantly under siege from the Orcs of Dul Guldor and Imladris is too far for aid to arrive in time. By the time any army arrived, there would be nothing remaining of Lòthlòrien, save the ashes of the world. Rohan is their only hope."

"What reason do they have to place their hope in us? We are little closer than Rivendell."

"The Elves of Rivendell would have to cross the passage of Caradhras, which has taken an evil turn in these dark days. Although the Elven race is light footed, an army is not. If the Rohirrim follow near to the Anduin, they will arrive in the Golden wood in a week at most. The need of Lorien is desperate."

"My men are desperate too, Master Elf. They are desperate to be relieved from our own shadow under which we have been suffocated for too long. They want peace of their own making. They desire revenge on Saruman for the grief with which he has afflicted them. As you can see, they have their own priorities. World peace is not among them. No, master Elf, Lòthlòrien is on its own." With that, Théoden melted into the sea of soldiers. Gandalf sighed and stared at Legolas, not needing to say a word. The Elf leaned up against the wall, refusing to meet the wizard's gaze. The Istar sighed again and, after a few long moments, slowly walked away, leaving Legolas with thoughts pricking his mind and tears stinging his eyes. Lòthlòrien would fall; the fairest Elven kingdom would be over run by Sauron's minions screeching and hollering as they fell the mighty mallorn trees. The light of Caras Galadhon would be drowned in darkness and the Elves, his own kindred, would be killed brutally, just as Eolas's parents had. Èolas? Why had his thoughts gone to her? Her face was now in his head, her dirt stained flesh with those piercing silver blue eyes and her dark hair, so unlike the many blonde haired people of Rohan. Would Èolas live to see better days? He could only hope so.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything." Legolas suddenly was pulled from his thoughts by the king's nephew, Èomer. "I am sorry about your conversation with my Uncle the king. I cannot say I agree with him in this matter."

"I'm grateful for your sympathies, but your opinion is irrelevant."

"Not necessarily. I am have great influence among the people of Rohan," Èomer pointed out smugly. He gave Legolas a look that told him there might be a shred of truth to this man's reputation as a war monger. This time, however, it might save the world.

Meanwhile, in the small room that now acted as a bed chamber, three people slept. Gimli had risen groggily and was aiding the Rohirrim. Aragorn, Èowyn and Èolas dozed soundly. Silence bore down upon the room as a dark, stormy, night, awaiting the first clap of lightning to signal the thunder and the downpour. The sun streaming in was ignored and, thus, ceased to exist. All was still in the grip of darkness. No sound accompanied the wind of the breaths of the three, they simply breathed soundlessly as a boat through a sea of glass, softly, softly. In here, it was night still, a peaceful darkness for those who never knew the light.

"Numëstel!" The lightning struck. It was a brilliant flash of the brightest white light ever beheld by mortal eyes. Aragorn had cried out, his eyes open, letting the dawn seep into them. Èowyn joined him in a whirl of panic and surprise.

"What is it, my lord? What is wrong?" The night had been taken away too quickly for her. She wasn't yet sure what had happened, or if something had. Had anything truly changed?

"Nothing, Èowyn. It was just a dream," Elessar said weakly, returning to his nighttime repose. The lady, seeing that it was past dawn, rushed from the night, leaving Èolas and Aragorn still in the darkness, the rain falling on them, becoming a river that would soon sweep them away together, for a while, but then apart, as the current would toss them. The lightning had heralded a life changing storm.

_Author's note: Please review. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed reading it. My sincerest thanks to you all. And yes, I know the Elves do not come to Helms Deep in the book, but I needed Théoden and Legolas to have a nice little argument, so they had to come and die. Poor them. Warning, character death coming up soon. MorniëGalad_


	8. Fire in the Starless Night

_Disclaimer and other Author ramblings: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and my deepest apologies for the late update. I still don't own it and I have to type fast or it won't get posted tonight. Character death is still coming up. I haven't forgotten about it. _

_MorniëGalad_

**

* * *

Chapter Eight  
****Fire in the Shadows of Starless Night**

"Has there been any change, milady?" Gandalf whispered to Èowyn as they both gazed down at Aragorn.

"None, save that he awoke a while ago and cried out something in the Elven tongue."

Gandalf's eyes met Èowyn's. "What did he say, Èowyn? Try to remember."

Èowyn closed her eyes, focusing. For quite a while, she strove to recall it, but she found she could not.

"I am sorry, milord," she sighed, opening her eyes. Then a sudden recollection swept upon her as her eyes fell upon Aragorn's sleeping form. "The word was numëstel."

Gandalf's ancient wisdom could disguise his surprise. "Numëstel," he muttered, "Hope of the West. Èowyn, are you certain that is what he said?" The White Lady nodded.

Without any further explanation, the White Wizard rushed from the room. Into the streaming light of day he sped, his cloak shining and billowing behind him in the wind. His solution came as he heard the quiet trill of a small dove. Gandalf called it to him and spoke silently to it, drawing confused stares from the Rohirrim who were tending to the few bodies that remained. At last, the wizard's message conveyed, the dove soared high above Gandalf's head and went North, in the direction of Imladris.

* * *

"We shall return to Edoras now. You need not fear. All danger has passed." King Théoden stood before his people as they trembled from the cold within the Glittering Caves. It was slightly after midday and Helm's Deep was now cleansed of the corpses and all the remnants of the battle had been erased. At their king's words, the people of Rohan became anxious and arose as an ocean of bodies. Èowyn, who stood beside her uncle, scanned the population for her brother, but saw him not. A sense of worry engulfed her and she scurried to escape the caves. She emerged into the fresh air to find Èomer just outside the entrance. He stood against the rock wall, his back turned to her, deep in hushed conversation with Legolas.

"Brother," Èowyn addressed him.

Èomer turned to look his sister in the eye. "If you have come to tell me of the king's plan, Èowyn, I know it already. Will Edoras protect us from the shadow? Nay! Perhaps hope will make itself known, but you know hope is scarce in these dark days. That is why Legolas and I are bound for Lòthlòrien."

"You are leaving directly! Legolas was injured in the battle. Surely you cannot expect him to rush headlong into another one, much less to survive it."

"He was the one who impressed the need for haste."

"Lòthlòrien is in dire need of defense. Any delay could seal their fate. If I am to die, I want to meet death defending the freedom of Ennorath."

Èowyn drew back a few steps and visibly paled nearly as white as her dress. "Stop it, Legolas," she snapped. "Neither you, nor Aragorn, have a death sentence save the one you give yourself." At the mention of his dear friend, a dismal look conquered the Elf's face, but Èowyn showed no signs of remorse. "Èomer, let Legolas rest for a few days in the Golden Hall. Then you, Aragorn, and any who would accompany you can depart for battle."

Èomer exchanged a look with Legolas. They had both detected Èowyn's obvious hopefulness that Aragorn would survive, a hope that both of them had nearly abandoned. They were both silently asking themselves the same question: could they spare the time to rest? Legolas also wanted to be present when Aragorn passed on, so he was torn in two even more. Could he risk the fall of Lòthlòrien for personal matters, though?

"What difference will an Elf and a few Rohirrim cause? Muster the Riders of Rohan and gather the full strength of our country," Èowyn was begging now. Time was growing short. The first of the people who had dwelt in the caves were flowing from the entrance behind Èowyn, forcing her to squish closer to the pair. Some citizens looked askance at the trio, but most dismissed them.

Èomer looked as if he were about to speak as Théoden emerged. Looking beyond his niece, he locked eyes for a short moment with Èomer. It seemed as if the king knew his nephew was plotting something and Théoden wanted to know what course of action the captain of Rohan would follow. He didn't want to stop his nephew; Èomer was strong willed enough to fight any jurisdiction Théoden imposed upon him. Èomer looked away, unwilling to disclose his intentions to his king. After a moment, Théoden moved on, looking almost sad. Èowyn's blue eyes, usually devoid of emotion, implored the captain one final time. She couldn't beg him as her brother, for his role had changed. When the weight of the world lay partially on one's shoulders, it was improper to acknowledge the love that was between them. He had to do what was best for the world.

"Let us go to Edoras for a little while at least," Legolas said, sighing in defeat. His companion studied him for a few moments to be certain of his friend's decision. Then they followed Théoden.

* * *

_Her parents stood before her, smiles upon their faces. It seemed she rested upon a large ocean of comfort with happiness to either side of her. A giggle escaped her lips. Her mother leaned in and picked her up, her arms protective and encouraging about her. Her mother's face was close to hers, the dark eyes and blonde hair smiling down upon her. Her father stood behind her. He looked much like his wife, save his blue eyes, which were not quite dark, but not quite light. They were indescribable, as was the emotion that consumed the young child. She could have stayed there forever in that moment, with her parents. _

"Èolas," Legolas's voice startled her out of her thoughts. She was looking out over the plains. Now the child turned to the Elf and walked with him to where his company awaited him. Aragorn was mounted on Arod, while Gandalf rode Shadowfax. Gimli and Eomer stood beside them. This would be a slow journey, but Théoden had instructed that lanterns be brought so they could travel through the night. Gamling brought Èomer's horse to him and he mounted, motioning for Èolas to join him. The child shook her head. She would walk along with the others. Èowyn approached them from behind, stopping at Aragorn's stallion. She appeared to want to say something, but could not find the words, so she remained silent.

Then, the Rohirrim began to flow from Helm's Deep. Happy faces lit the journey, but the small wave that included the members of the Fellowship was solemn. Aragorn attempted to maintain a jovial spirit, but was soon lost in thought. Gimli appeared uncomfortable in the silence and tried several times to start a conversation by saying things such as "it's a mighty fine day" or "mighty interesting scenery" or "it's good not to be running." All his attempts were in vain, however, and were met with only dead silence, save from Èolas, with whom he eventually struck up a tale of the Dwarves of old as well as his own kindred. They were cautious not to disturb the others, who held a silent vigil over Aragorn, perhaps without even realizing they were doing so. Èolas was fascinated by the wars of the Dwarves, a fascination Gimli rarely saw outside of his own race. They whispered long after the lanterns had been lit and the stars emerged from behind their daily facade.

The Rohirrim marched onward without a care, but Èolas seemed to become disturbed. She looked about her, frightened, pushing herself closer to the center of the sea of people. For a moment, Gimli was surprised, but he had quite forgotten that she was, after all, a child and even Dwarven children often feared the dark. To be in the dark was to be in the unknown and fear of the unknown was a natural aspect of life.

* * *

A brilliant light clouded the darkness from Aragorn's vision. Once again, he could see nothing but the light. This time, though, he could not hear the voice. He listened intently, but he perceived nothing, save the light. His wound seemed not to pain him anymore. In fact, it seemed as if he could feel nothing. He wondered if he was still alive. Had he slipped into death? A strange scent filled his senses. It was . . . ah . . . there were no words to describe it, yet it seemed as if it was familiar, perhaps from a memory or a dream. What was it? It smelled pleasant, more pleasant than anything he had known in a long time. Then it came to him without a sound. He knew now that it was the scent of the sea. Had he come home?

* * *

_Fire! It was all she knew. It did not touch her, but it surrounded her. The heat lapped at Èolas, who screamed. Two blonde heads formed in the flame: one with blue eyes, the other brown ones. Both were familiar to her, though they were now naught but a fiery red flame. Had the flames returned for her life? Èolas screamed in fear and frustration. _

_"Mama, Papa, help me! I don't know what to do!" Then Hama's flaming face appeared beside her father and next to him was his son, Halath, his face as well ringed in flame. "No!" Èolas screamed, in tears. "No, Halath, no!" He had been the only brother she had ever known. Since Hama h_a_d brought her to his home, Halath had welcomed her and treated her as a twin sister. They had been separated at Helm's Deep, but Èolas had somehow believed he had survived. Apparently, she had been mistaken. Tears stained her face. Then a hand seemingly made of light reached down from above and dried her tears. In that touch, Èolas felt comfort, of which she had long been bereft. She collapsed into the white figure's arms, sobbing, love pouring over her. _

"Èolas, what is it?" Legolas asked. A small crowd including an Elf, a Dwarf and Théoden's sister's children had gathered, drawing glares from those who were so immersed in their blissful travel that they collided with the group. Èolas felt quite embarrassed to be made such a fuss over. She motioned, still sobbing, for Èomer to come to her. The two of them stepped a few feet away from the others and he stooped to her height, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

"Did you see Halath among the bodies at Helm's Deep?" she asked, nearly choking on her words. Her question surprised the captain.

"No, I did not. I will keep my eyes peeled for him . . ." Èolas shook her head, cutting him off.

"He's dead, my captain. I had a vision. I saw my parents, Hama and him, all wreathed in fire. Their bodies were fire." She broke off in sobs for a few moments. "To think that I survived and he did not," she moaned. The captain's brown eyes widened.

"You were in the battle! Èolas, thank the Valar you survived. I never would have forgiven myself if you had been injured." He paused for an instant to reflect. "You and Èowyn were both in the battle. What is Rohan coming to? Will you be all right, Èolas? Come, ride with me." The duo returned to the others and Èomer boosted Èolas onto his horse's back. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "These days will pass."

* * *

"Gandalf?" Aragorn questioned, not far ahead of Èomer and Èolas. He sounded surprised to see the wizard. "I saw a bright light and smelled the sea." He spoke the last word in reverence, though he grimaced as pain washed back upon him. "I don't think I shall see Minas Tirith again, my old friend." Gandalf smiled, but in the dark, his eyes filled with tears. He could only hope Elrond would receive his message before it was too late.

The night drew on and dark clouds veiled the stars. The only light came from the lanterns carried by the Rohirrim. They were effective for lighting the path, but were useful for little else. Èolas drifted off to sleep with the constant rhythm of Èomer's steed for a lullaby. She seemed to be undisturbed by dreams now, for which both she and Èomer were grateful. A bit ahead of them, Aragorn too slept peacefully, but Èowyn was paranoid, refusing to pry her eyes from him, lest he should die when she glanced away. Nearby, Legolas and Gandalf rode, lost in thought. Slightly in front of them was Gimli, not seeming to be doing anything specific. The tread of feet was constant by now and thus the people of Rohan followed their king Théoden through the starless night on the return journey to Edoras.


	9. Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

_Disclaimer: Wow, nine chapters in and I still own nothing. Believe it or not, Halath was not the character death I was referring to when I keep warning you, so you are going to be warned again. There is an upcoming character death. "Upcoming" is the key word. Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter and who will review this one. I updated faster this time. Less than one week later! You should be proud of me. Oh, yes,thank you to random89,who asked me how old Èolas is, but I can't remember how old I toldyou she was. Sorry if I put down something different, but she's probably somewhere between ten and twelve, probably closer to ten. Eleven maybe. Somewhere in there. Thank you and enjoy the chapter. _

_MorniëGalad_

**Chapter Nine:**

**Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost**

The first spark of dawn burst forth in Èowyn's eyes. They had made good time, for now they could nearly see Edoras. The White Lady knew the way well and she could feel her spirits rise, knowing she would soon be back inside the Golden Hall, her home. Even the morning dew smelled of joy. All would be right in the world. With a final glance and a smile at Aragorn's rousing form, Èowyn sprang forward to her brother's horse, sensing the lap of fresh dew upon the grass as it brushed against her legs and the breath of the early spring breeze that tickled her dress about her ankles.

"Èolas!" she called. The child's head popped up instantly, her eyes alert, though she was squinting in the morning light. "Run with me!" She plucked Èolas up and took her hand. They rolled in the thicket, laughing. Èomer smiled at them, wondering at his sister, who one moment was a warrior, the next a child.

Suddenly, Legolas sprang from his position beside Aragorn to the head of the stretch of people. Something was not right. A dark fog clouded the new morning sky. He followed it to its source with his eyes, but it did not have just one origin. Its beginnings were uncountable. It was smoke. Something was burning on the path ahead. The Elf took a few steps more and he could see thatthe smoke came from houses. Further destruction had reached Rohan. He raced back to inform King Théoden.

When he heard the news, Théoden sighed and put his head in his hands. "How far does the destruction go?"

"I don't know," Legolas replied. "If you wish, King Théoden, I would be willing to scout ahead and destroy whatever creatures did this." Théoden did not lower his eyes, but looked uncomfortable.

"You would do that though I refused to aid your kindred in Lorien?"

"If you wish," Legolas said. His humility nearly shamed Théoden, though that had not been the Elf's intention.

"Take some riders with you and go with my blessing. Take Èomer, too, if he will go. The men will eagerly heed him." Legolas nodded and Théoden himself dismounted his steed. "Take Snowmane. He will bring good fortune with him." The Elf nodded his thanks and rose to the horse's back. Then he retreated to where Èomer was.

By the time Legolas arrived, Èolas and Èowyn had finished their frolicking and the child had resumed her conversation with Gimli from the previous night concerning the history of the Dwarves. The Elf pulled Snowmane to a halt beside the Captain of Rohan. "There is destruction ahead. King Théoden has asked that I head a scouting troop. Would you accompany me?" Legolas asked in a whisper, so the nearby people would not hear. Èomer nodded, but didn't seem to grasp the concept of subtlety.

The cry "All riders to the head of the column!" rang out through the silent dawn and echoed in the Elf's head. Èowyn made a move to summon her horse, but Èomer stopped her, holding up his hand. "Not this time, Èowyn. Remain here with Èolas. She will need you," her brother commanded softly, but Èowyn glared at him. Sensing Èowyn would be difficult to tame, Gandalf spoke.

"I shall look after the child. Summon your horse, milady."

"I can look after myself," Èolas growled, becoming angry in turn. Looking at her, despite all the despair that filled the world, Legolas couldn't help but smile. This child fascinated him. He could have watched her for hours if he had been granted the time. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't place who it was. Regardless, he had no time at the moment for contemplation of this sort. Horses were rushing past to await him and Èomer to lead them on their venture. Èowyn, too, was on her horse impatiently waiting for them.

"Namarië, Elessar. Be well," he said and then was gone in the roar of hoof beats. Èolas stared after them until she could no longer see or hear them. Beside her, Gimli put his gloved hand on her shoulder. It was comforting to her that he and Gandalf had stayed, though their reason was their concern for Aragorn, not the mandate of a superior that held them back. The child sighed and tried to put the matter out of her mind.

* * *

The thunder of hoof beats preceded the riders as they sped over the plain. Legolas and Èomer were just the pair to motivate the riders. They passed burned down houses, reduced to ashes, the destruction caused by the hatred of Isengard.

Suddenly the Elf gave a cry. "There they are!" He spurred Snowmane on and strung his bow. The rest of the ensemble was not far behind. Soon the other riders could see the destroyers: some of the remaining Uruk-hai of Isengard. The wind carried their wicked laughter as sparks and smoke rose from another house. Driven by anger, arrows flew from the ranks of the riders. Their aim was sure and many of the Uruks fell on the first volley. One of the enemy members gave a bellow in an undecipherable tongue and, his fiery weapon raised high in his hand, charged at the riders. A collective growl emanated from the village and dozens of savages, all armed with flaming brands, raced after him, the flame of anger burning in their eyes. The well-trained steeds of Rohan kept their courage and advanced according to their masters' commands. Arrows were sent flying and the sound of swords being drawn was added to the symphony of the battle. It was not a great struggle. The Uruks may have been passionate with devotion to Saruman, but the Rohirrim were desperate. They had not defeated the Uruk-hai at Helm's Deep to be conquered by these mindless brutes, cowardly enough to destroy their homes when they were abandoned. Quickly the front soldiers of the enemy were shot down, but those behind them took no notice, trampling the bodies without regard or respect. The second wave of creatures soon fell to the swords of Èowyn and Èomer and the bow of Legolas. The numbers of the opposition quickly dwindled and the Uruks seemed bewildered. The riders seized this momentaryadvantageand urged their steeds on, surrounding the invaders, but the beasts refused to surrender, barring their teeth at their captors and waving their torches at them as if they were drunk or mad. A few horses' snouts were burnt, causing them to bolt slightly, but soon the swords of the warriors ran through the Uruks and a disorderly pile of bodies lay between their steeds. Consumed by their own flames, Saruman's creations soon were no more than a pile of ashes and the remaining sparks were smouldered by a rider.

"It's a good thing we caught them when we did," Èowyn commented. "They were almost to Edoras." She pointed into the distance and the riders saw that it was true. In the distance stood Edoras, risen upon its hill above the monotony of the plain. Joy filled the heart of every soldier. This was indeed a good day. The homes that had been destroyed by the Uruks would be rebuilt and their residents would find other lodgings with the hospitable people of Rohan. The riders had time to rejoice now, for they had lived to return to their beloved home.

"Edoras, Edoras, a jewel upon the dirt of the world.  
Edoras, Edoras we shout to see thee as of old.  
Edoras, we have the victory.  
Oh, Edoras, victory o'er the enemy!" Èomer shouted. The riders joined him in the chant. "Thank the Valar for victory, oh, Edoras!"

Moments later, Théoden appeared in the distance, the rest of the company at his heels. "Victory!" he cried, thrusting Herugrim, his sword, high in the air. Behind him rode Gandalf and as the group approached it could be seen that Èolas rode with the wizard. Near them was Gimli and also Aragorn, who was still on his steed

"Edoras is unscathed, my king," Èomer reported, bowing. The king nodded and they continued to the city.

There was much celebration as they entered the gates of Edoras. Song filled the air and dancing consumed the streets. Èowyn jumped off her horse and skipped along beside Aragorn's steed. Théoden glanced back at her and grinned, but he couldn't help wondering how long her happiness would last before the source of her joy was extinguished. He refused to let that thought ruin this triumph, though, for Aragorn himself was smiling. No matter what dark days lay before them, the battle of Helm's Deep had been won and the victory belonged to Rohan and the free peoples of Middle Earth.

Aragorn's thoughts also dwelt along those lines. Even if he had wanted to dwell on his dismal fate, he could not have done so with Èowyn's wide smile and grinning eyes beside him. Théoden was right, it had been a victory, as it should be. Aragorn almost felt arrogant, thinking that Saruman couldn't bring about the death of the heir of Isildur in a battle that served no purpose for good. He felt peace sweep over him and his smile sparkled more than Èowyn thought possible. In that instant, the White Lady felt certain he would survive and she saw them riding against Mordor together, side by side, conquering Sauron. She silently prayed to the Valar that it would be so.

Èolas watched Èowyn and the others from Shadowfax's back. She too was rejoicing for their victory and for being once again embraced in the security of Edoras. She felt like a child who had awoken from a nightmare in her mother's arms. She was grateful to escape the nightmare of the fires which had been both inside her mind and out of it. The evil flames could not breach the sanctuary of Edoras. Of this she was certain. Nothing could shake her faith and trust in the home such blood had been spilt to protect. She had been terrified of the fire and smoke outside the arms of Edoras, but any fire she now saw would be contained by one of her fellow Rohirrim. They were the masters, not the prey, now. That was the way it should be. This was the return to the right way of doing things. Perhaps now, all would be set right in the world. So she sang with the others the ancient songs of Rohan withGandalf's voice loud in her ear.

The wizard himself knew this was only a brief interlude of peace between battles, but he also knew the need to celebrate. Goodness knew it was a victory to survive even one of these black days. He would rest for a little while, but not long, for he had many quests on his mind. The primary one was, of course, the destruction of the ring, in which his part seemed to have been concluded. Another related to Aragorn. In the latter quest, timing was essential. Even in the celebration of Edoras, Gandalf let his mind wander to Galadriel and Elrond. Though he could not speak with them until he found the opportunity for solitude, he sent up a prayer to the Valar in the silence of his heart.

* * *

The armies of Lorien were granted a bit of relief from their siege during the brightest hours of the day, for Sauron's troops were not accustomed to the magnificence of the sun in Lòthlòrien. The wood Elves did not have a large army now, since many of their people had marched to Rohan. Even with Galadriel's encouragement and the power of Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, the loss of their captain, Haldir, had taken quite a toll on their moral. When the Elves gazed at Caras Galadhon, though, their resolve was strengthened and renewed. They all contributed their best effort for the defense of their home. Those who were injured crafted arrows and bows as fast as they could. They were doing well, mostly because the borders had not yet fallen, but every Elf knew too well that the strength of Mordor would one day overpower the light of Lòthlòrien. When that happened, none would survive and the kingdom would fall. The Elven folk were determined, though, that each one of them would meet their deaths in battle. There were no cowards in the realm, for the light of Lorien could give courage to even the most dismal soul. The beasts charged again and the bowmen let loose their arrows. Lòthlòrien had not yet given up its spirit.

* * *

The party came to the Golden Hall, the dancing and singing never ceasing. Èowyn held her arms out and helped Aragorn dismount.

"Hannon le." Their smiling eyes met. Neither of them noticed Èolas watching them from atop Gandalf's horse. In all the years she had seen Èowyn walking the streets of Edoras, never had she seen her as happy as this. Just watching them made Èolas joyous. Suddenly a bright light covered her eyes and she could hear her mother's voice. Then her father spoke.

_"We will need help if we are to raise her properly. She is our first child. I didn't expect she would grow up so fast."_

_"She seems anxious to be old," her father laughed. Èolas felt herself being lifted up. "You're just a handful, aren't you?" Her father smiled. "Where do you want to go for advice?" he asked her mother. _

_"The Elves of Lòthlòrien, the Lady Galadriel in particular, were suggested by Gandalf." _Èolas's eyesight returned to normal and she focused on the wizard behind her in surprise. Had she heard her mother correctly? Why had Gandalf bothered with her, a child of two Rohirrim? What was so special about her that her parents would consult him, or the Elves of Lòthlòrien? Though she was curious, Èolas knew this was not the time to pester the mighty wizard with her questions. She would wait. She jumped from Shadowfax's back turned toward the Golden Hall.

"Èolas, can you help us set up for the feast?" the Lady Èowyn requested, bending to the child's level before she entered the hall, Lord Aragorn by her side. This was the first time Èolas had truly gotten a good look at him. He was tall and very impressive, although he appeared rugged. Somehow, Èolas was drawn to him. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Èowyn's mouth moving in soundless words that did not register in the child's mind. Her eyes were focused on the man, but she couldn't put a name to the sort of person she thought he was. Usually, she could sense a person's character by their eyes, but his eyes were as grey as the ocean and so mysterious.

Aragorn didn't know what to think of this child, either. Before the battle of Helm's Deep it had been a long time since he had seen a child. Before he had met Èolas, the last child he had met was Hama's son, Halath. Somehow, this little girl reminded him of the other, yet they were nothing alike. He tried to remember other children, further back in his memory, but found none who were anything like this one. Then he looked into the child's eyes, pools ofbluemysteries, seemingly full of thought and wisdom. Her eyes looked so much older than she herself was. Those eyes were calling him, reminding him of other eyes.

_A flash of light that was now almost familiar blurred Aragorn's vision. This time, though, he heard a familiar voice. He knew it, but who was it? It was echoing in a whispery tone in his head. He couldn't tell what it was saying. Then one word emerged above the rest: Estel. Of course, now herecognized the voice as Gandalf's._ The light dissipated and the Ranger searched for the wizard, but saw him not. When he looked down at Èolas again, she was transfixed, unmoving, unblinking, and was barely even breathing. Suddenly, Aragorn felt lightheaded and, without warning, collapsed into Legolas's arms.

"Le anta est, mellon nin (_you need to rest, my friend)_" the Elf instructed, helping Aragorn up the steps leading to the Golden Hall and past the guard post where Hama had previously stood. Now there were no guards, for Saruman's influence upon Rohan had fallen. Leaning heavily on his friend, Aragorn disappeared from Èowyn's sight into the Golden Hall.

"Èolas," Èowyn called her name and turned the child to face her. "Èolas!" The girl blinked and shook her head, a look of fear in her eyes. "What is it, child?"

"I saw fire. It was the fire that killed my parents and I saw Lord Mandos. The vision left me, but Mandos was here. He was here in Edoras," the child was whispering, but her fear could not have been more piercing had she been screaming.

"It is all right, Èolas," Èowyn whispered, clutching the child to her. "What shall be shall be." Èolas nodded and took Èowyn's hand. She did not tell the White Lady that Mandos had stood directly beside Aragorn. Instead, she remained silent as they prepared for the celebration.

* * *

Aragorn found he was unable to attend the feast that night. He was exhausted, but happy. A while before the feast began, Èowyn had visited him alone, begging him to attend. It had been painful for him to decline, but he was too fatigued. Legolas and Gimli had both offered to remain with him, but he had declined their offers as well. This night he desired only to be alone and to rest. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness of sleep.

It was not the darkness that met his sight, but the radiant light and an unexpected voice met his ears. It sounded like Gandalf's voice, only it was more powerful and younger, yet, older. He saw no one, not even a shadow to indicate the presence of a being. Only the voice hinted that someone was trying to reach him. This time, though, he could hear the words that the voice spoke.

"Lay down your sweet and weary head. Night is falling; You have come to journey's end. Sleep now; Dream of the ones who came before. They are calling from across a distant shore. What can you see on the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea a pale moon rises. The ships have come to carry you home and all will turn to silver glass. A light on the water, grey ships pass into the west." Now, somehow, Aragorn found heknew the voice.

"Lord Mandos!" Had he not been in a vision, Aragorn would have laid prostrate on the ground. "Am I going to die tonight, my lord?"

"Not tonight," Mandos replied, still unseen by Aragorn. "You have some tasks yet to accomplish. Soon, though, you will come to my halls. There you will feel no more pain as you have endured in your life, my son. You will be free of all worldly cares, but you must suffer a little more. There will be joy before the end, though, my son, despite the pain. Then, when it is all over, and the next page of history has been turned, you will rest in joy. For now, rest, young Estel, Arathornion. You will have much ahead of you in the next few days."

"Hannon le, Lord Mandos," Aragorn whispered as he drifted off into a brightly lit slumber.

* * *

The feast was ready to begin. King Théoden stood between Èomer and Èowyn, who was mellower than she had been earlier, where his throne was. Before him was a long table with three glasses upon it. The hall was filled with rows of these tables, each with glasses in proportion to the number of people standing around the table. Each glass was filled with a special wine, which had not been used for years. It had been preserved for special occasions and if there were any days yet worthy of celebration, it was this day.

Èolas stood between Gimli and Gandalf in the first row. She glanced around, uncomfortably. She was, by far, the youngest person there. It now became evident that none of the youngest soldiers had survived, save her alone. Gandalf must have sensed her feelings, for he placed a hand upon her shoulder.

"Tonight we gather to celebrate our victory." Theoden's voice began to speak over the hushed army. "This victory would not have been possible without those who gave their lives in the battle. Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" The cry echoed through the hall. At almost the same instant, the door of Meduseld flung open and two figures clothed in grey, cloaks veiling their heads, hurried in. All eyes turned to the strangers.

"I must speak to Gandalf in private," one of the figures said urgently, his voice seeming to fill the silent hall. He held his arm out to prevent the other figure, obviously anxious about something, from moving forward. Gandalf patted Èolas on the shoulder and walked past Gimli and Legolas. He strode in front of the table and through the center of the line of men. Then he left the hall with the two unknown shadows.

Èolas's eyes followed them in wonder. "Do you know who they were?" she asked Gimli and Legolas. The Dwarf shook his head, but the Elf seemed to retrace the incident in his head.

"I may know them, but I cannot be certain," he said slowly and silently, so only Èolas and Gimli could hear him. He was interrupted from his thoughts by the setting of food on the table. Gimli immediately began to eat, as did most of the Rohirrim. Èolas, however, felt sudden exhaustion overtake her and could not find the energy to eat much. The heaviness of her eyelids became apparent, and Èowyn rose from her chair to lead the child to a bedroom.

The room they entered was dark and, like many of the other rooms of Meduseld, was arranged with various furs. A wolf skin padded the floor near the bed and a deer head was mounted one of the walls. Once she was in the soft bed, Èolas gladly fell asleep. Èowyn pulled the covers over the child so only her head was unveiled from their warmth. The girl's young face was peaceful and smiling as her breath slowly followed its own pattern.

"Goodnight, Èolas," Èowyn whispered, gazing fondly down at the child. She slipped from the room as silently as shadows slither through darkened streets. Not long after this, another figure entered, or rather, appeared in the room.

* * *

The stars now shone brightly over Edoras and a slight night breeze blew Gandalf's long white hair about his face. Arwen and Elrond kept their cloaks on for warmth, but no longer for disguise. Arwen's patience for knowledge had run out.

"Where is Aragorn?" she demanded of Gandalf.

"Arwen," Elrond gently scolded, but she ignored him. Her eyes were fixed on the wizard, imploring him. Gandalf pointed her to the room, knowing she would have no peace until she saw her beloved. Predictably, Arwen raced off in that direction.

"Did you receive my message?" the wizard asked as soon as the Elf maiden had left them. Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"I received no message. I came to ensure that my daughter fell to no harm, as she was set on coming here and could not be dissuaded."

"Then you did not know that Aragorn has been mortally wounded." Elrond faltered, leaning against the wall.

"Then all hope has died," the Elf whispered, guarding his voice against tears.

"It may not be so. There is another hope, the one that the Valar appointed."

"No one knows where that one is."

"There is still time if we act quickly. Aragorn mentioned a word in his sleep, as if in a dream. It was 'Numëstel'. Was that not the name?"

The light in Elrond's eyes seemed to be rekindled. "How much time do we have?"

"I don't know. Aragorn is fighting well, but he can't last forever. If we act quickly, we stand a chance." Gandalf couldn't help remembering another time, not so long ago, when he had said something similar to Saruman, who had been a friend at the time. For an instant, he was almost afraid that in the silence that now engulfed them Elrond would turn against him, just as Saruman had. His fears were needless, however as Elrond's answer came.

"Where do we begin our search?"

"We should first ask the Valar for guidance." Together, they silently prayed as the star of Eärendil shone above them.

* * *

'Unto that I hold, I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.'Arwen's own words echoed in her head as she paused at the doorway of Aragorn's room. He slept peacefully, which pleased her, but she could almost sense death lurking in the room. The Evenstar glimmered upon his chest as Arwen had hoped it would. She wondered if she should wake him. She almost didn't want to, but she knew she had to plant a single kiss upon his lips. Slowly she floated to him and she smiled as she bent down and met his lips with hers. His grey eyes fluttered open.

"Arwen," he whispered her name, "melleth nin." She took his hand in hers and a smile crossed the Ranger's face. "Now I am complete."

"Do not surrender yet, Elessar, my love." Their foreheads gently met.

"For your sake, Undomiel, I shall stay by your side."

"I shall not leave your side, Estel, as long as you live."

"Arwen, when I am gone, will you sail to Valinor with your father?"

"I will decide that later. Now, let us be happy."

"Amin weera._ (I agree)_." He sat up slightly and kissed her. After a few moments, Arwen pulled away and stood.

"Amin n'kelaya (_I'm not leaving),_" she promised, drawing back the curtains on the window. "Amin merma cenich eleneth_ (I wanted to see the stars)_."

"Le Elenamin _(You are my star),_" He whispered, taking her hand and guiding her to sit beside him on the bed. Their heads rested together and their eyes looked deeply into the other pair, each reflecting the other's love. They could have stayed there for hours. In this room, this night, Undomiel, the evening star, had worked her magic and it seemed the room had become as timeless as Imladris, though both of them knew that was impossible. They were not thinking about that, though. Their thoughts were filled with each other.

"Arwenamin," Aragorn whispered. "Amin mela lle _(I love you)_." The Elf smiled and leaned in and kissed him again. It drew later in the night and Aragorn fell asleep in Arwen's arms. After a while, she laid him on the bed and she fell asleep on the bearskin on the floor, unaware that only a few doors down was an unexpected visitor, who, at this moment, was speaking with a seemingly insignificant child.

_Author's note: Please read this anyone who is about to flame me for the last section of this chapter. I was simply keeping Arwen in character. Èowyn will get her chance with Aragorn before the end of this story, I promise. Please read and review, but don't just tell me you hate Arwen. Please (bracing for screams of "I despise Arwen")_

_MorniëGalad_


	10. The West Wind Brings its Changes

_Disclaimer: I still own nothing in this story, though I can take a little claim for certain characters (Èolas). I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and, as always, a character death is approaching. MorniëGalad_

_Notes on the Elvish: poikaer means pure one_

_**Chapter Ten: The West Wind Brings its Changes**_

Perhaps she should have been frightened, but she couldn't find any fear in her soul. Instead, there was only anger where terror and awe should have been, for before Èolas stood Lord Mandos.

"Greetings, _poikaer_," the Doomsman said, his voice like a silent breeze. "You are troubled," he observed.

"Why? Why have you come to me? Why did I survive the battle while so many others who were so young died? Why did you take my parents and now my father and my brother from me? Why am I the one left alone?" All of the child's frustrations emerged in a sea of tears. She wept and Mandos's eyes became moist as well. He strode to her and cradled her in his arms. Part of Èolas resented him, desiring to pull away from him and dash out of his reach, yet she needed to be held and being in the arms of Mandos felt almost like having her father and brother returned to her. Eventually her tears stopped falling and her sobs quieted. Mandos held her at arm's length so he could look into her eyes and she into his.

"It was not my decision to take your family from you, dear one. It was the will of Manwe, just as it is His will that you remain here. You have a task to do, just as everyone does."

"What is my task?"

Mandos smiled. "I cannot tell you, young one. You, like everyone else, must discover it for yourself. My task is to prepare you for yours."

"You won't die when your task is complete. You won't end."

"Your parents didn't end when they died, Èolas. They are happy, now, in my halls. They have no cares now, nor pain. All of the dead go there; they do not simply cease to exist. You are right, though. I am a Vala, so I cannot taste death."

"You are fortunate."

"As are you, young one. All of your life is ahead of you and I have foreseen much happiness and light. These days of darkness are about to end." A breeze blew through the open window, drawing Èolas's attention. It was a fierce breeze and it seemed to echo through the room as if it had been loud long ago. "He knows I am here, now. I cannot remain much longer, lest I draw his attention and suspicion."

"Did not Lord Manwe send you ?"

"It is not Lord Manwe of whom I speak. He knows well that I am here."

"Then who is it, my lord?"

"Sauron," Mandos answered. Èolas's face paled slightly, but Mandos knelt beside her and took her head in his hands. "Be not afraid of him. Sauron is merely a nightmare that will be dispelled with the dawn. Take courage, my child."

This time, Èolas humbly knelt before him. "Yes, my lord," she whispered. Mandos smiled and, in a twinkling that resembled a star, he was gone. Èolas stood for a few moments, gazing in awe at the spot before her where Lord Mandos had stood. She then lit a candle and started down the corridor in search of Èowyn. She had no idea how late it was, or if the feast was still in occurrence, but the Golden Hall seemed the best place to begin her search. Through the dark hallway, illuminated only by the flickering light of her small candle, she went. Shadows of horses and other figures played on the walls. It seemed they were telling her that she was the only living being in this hall, for she heard no sounds save the light footsteps of her own bare feet on the cold floor. She passed doors, some open, others closed, all sealed in darkness. If she stopped, as she once did, at a certain door, she could see through the windows out to the stars and the outside world. The sight comforted her, though she hadn't known she was ill at ease. From that moment, though, she became aware that she felt as if someone was watching her. It was an eerie sensation, though she heeded the words of Mandos and did not fall prey to fear. Occasionally, she would hold the candle high above her head to see into the mysterious spots in which someone could hide, but she never saw another soul in that hallway.

At long last, she reached the side entrance to the Golden Hall. She heard song and laughter. The only seats she could see were those the royal family had occupied earlier. These stood empty now. Hoping to camouflage herself with the crowd, Èolas entered.

She spied Legolas and Gimli immediately. They were having a drinking contest, facilitated by Èomer. A crowd of laughing soldiers had gathered about them and Gimli was standing on a table in order to be seen. Èolas thought he looked a bit tipsy, but she knew little of ale, wine, or whatever they were drowning themselves in.

Then she saw Èowyn between Gamling and King Théoden. Her back was against an elaborately decorated golden pillar. Slinking through the crowd, Èolas dodged the soldiers, many of them quite drunk, to get to Èowyn. When she was still a little ways away, the White Lady saw her coming and excused herself.

"Èolas," she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to tell you something." A loud crash resounded through the hall and all heads turned. Gimli had apparently lost the game, for he had fallen, unconsciously, from his perch on the table. Legolas strode victoriously away from the circle that had surrounded Gimli. To Èowyn's surprise, the Elf seemed completely unaffected by the liquor as he approached them. Èolas tried to hide behind one of the soldiers, but Legolas had already seen her.

"Why are you not in bed, young daughter of Rohan?" he asked, smiling, but not making fun of her. Èolas reasoned with herself that she had told this Elf of her parents' deaths, so she could trust him now with this unusual visitation.

"Lord Mandos came to see me just after you left, milady," Èolas whispered. Èowyn smiled, but the Elf looked serious.

"Are you certain you weren't dreaming, Èolas? You were sound asleep when I left," the White Lady suggested gently, seeing Legolas's expression.

"I don't believe she was dreaming, but even if she was, Lord Mandos has appeared to her."

"How can you be certain?"

"I can sense it. What did he say, Èolas?" The child gave them a full account of the affair, eliminating the details of her tears and the long moments Mandos had held her in his arms. Èolas thought, from the look on his face, that the Elf could sense she was omitting some parts. He said nothing though, his eyes, which seemed to read her mind, never left her. Èowyn also paid rapt attention to the child. When Èolas finished the account, she was the first to speak.

"Why would you be of any importance to Sauron?"

"I don't know."

"Many small things serve a great purpose for good or ill. Do not underestimate the power of things or people that appear unimportant," Legolas advised. Èowyn nodded, looking as if she knew something that Èolas did not. The child glanced away.

"Go back to bed, Èolas," Èowyn instructed. She took the child's hand as if she intended to accompany her, but King Théoden summoned her. Reluctantly, she left the child's side.

"I believe I, too, will retire. Walk with me, young Èolas," Legolas said. He didn't offer his hand, for which the child was grateful. The Elf was still a stranger to her, despite her instincts telling her she could trust him. The walk down the corridor seemed much shorter with a companion, although Èolas still had the eerie feeling of being watched. They paused only once, at the same room at which Èolas had halted on her way. It was too dark to see anything and, though he seemed anxious to do so, Legolas did not enter. The trek was silent until they came to the door of Èolas's room. There they said goodnight and parted ways. Legolas walked onward and, as he often did, he stepped outside using the first door he found. He sat upon the moist grass and waited, thinking. His contemplations focused mostly on Aragorn, his dear friend, and Èolas, whom he had known for only a few days. One was dying, the other just beginning to live.

* * *

Beneath the same stars walked Elrond and Gandalf. They had held counsel together for many hours, yet their plan had not improved and they were no closer to finding the next heir of Isildur than they had been. They did not even know how they would recognize the heir. Gandalf had thought the Valar would lead them, but thus far the Valar had done nothing noticeable. The two friends of old strode along in the night. Then Gandalf stopped. A few yards ahead of them sat and Elf: Legolas. Elrond would have dismissed him had Gandalf not halted. As if he had been awakened, Legolas sprang up.

"Mithrandir, Èolas has seen Lord Mandos this evening." That statement sparked Elrond's attention.

"Who is this Èolas?" asked the Elf lord.

* * *

Morning came and King Théoden suggested that Lord Aragorn should be moved into the lawn outside the Golden hall. Aragorn found it nearly impossible to rise from his bed and when he attempted it, he was filled with unbearable pain. Arwen had to help him to lie down on the bed again. She and Théoden both agreed it would be best to place the bed out of doors within the sight of the people of Edoras. He would be treated as a king in his final days. So Èowyn, Arwen, Èomer and Legolas bore him upon his bed to the lawn of Meduseld. The Ranger smiled, but everyone knew he was in great pain. Èowyn could scarcely bear to see him in agony and with Arwen. The White Lady couldn't deny that she loved him, though, so if he was happy with Arwen, she would try to be happy as well. She did, however, make every attempt to avoid the Elf maiden, who never strayed from her beloved's side. These behaviors were not unnoticed by Aragorn, who requested that Èomer bring her to him.

"Sit beside me, Èowyn," he implored her. His voice was growing weaker. "I have barely seen you all day. Why is this?" Èowyn found she could not speak the words for, although she had uttered them in her mind, she was faced with a difficult admission.

"Do you not know?" she asked instead.

Aragorn now groped for words. How could he express his feelings for Èowyn without betraying Arwen? Knowing his mind, the Elf maiden nodded, giving her permission.

"Èowyn, if I had more time, perhaps we could have more than this. The Valar did not permit it, though. Don't argue," he pleaded as he saw her about to protest. "For what is and what might have been." Arwen helped him rise and the Ranger tenderly kissed Èowyn. The maiden gently embraced him and surrendered to the kiss. Nothing was wrong. Èowyn was a flower that had burst into bloom. At last the kiss ended and Èowyn gently lowered Aragorn back onto the bed. Smiles surrounded his bed and Aragorn experienced some of the remaining joy that had been promised by Lord Mandos. Even Arwen, though she felt slight pain, was smiling at both her companions, which came as a surprise to Èowyn, but not her beloved Strider. Perhaps Aragorn was above surprise.

* * *

That same morning, after Aragorn had been brought outside, King Théoden summoned Legolas before him. The Golden Hall was empty save a few slumbering soldiers. Théoden sat upon his throne and Èomer stood beside him. Legolas approached.

"Master Elf, if you yet wish to assemble an army to aid your kinsmen in Lorien, I have sent messengers to gather troops. They will be assembled at the camp at the mouth of the Entwash tomorrow. Èomer has declared that he will go. Will you?"

Legolas considered the question longer than he would have in ordinary circumstances. Leaving for Lòthlòrien would mean leaving Aragorn. He couldn't place his own interests first, though. The safety of Middle Earth must outweigh his personal desires. "Yes," the Elf finally responded, ignoring the lump that had formed in his throat. "If I may ask, though, King Théoden, why did you change your mind?"

"Your behavior yesterday and your quick actions may have saved Edoras," Théoden answered. "I could not easily dismiss this. Also, I heard a voice in a dream last night that further cemented my decision." The king rose. "May the Valar look after you and all those you love and care for." Legolas bowed slightly as did Èomer and they set off to don their armor.

* * *

About that same time, a knock sounded at Èolas' door. She had just returned from a walk. "Come in," she called as she removed her cloak. Gandalf and an Elf whom Èolas did not recognize entered.

"Good morning, my child. My name is Elrond," said the strange Elf. "Gandalf and I want to ask you some questions." Èolas felt as if his ancient eyes were reading her through and through. She sat on the floor, for there were now chairs in the room. Elrond and Gandalf did the same.

"Èolas," Gandalf began. "You are not in trouble. We simply need your assistance in solving a puzzle. Legolas told me that Lord Mandos spoke with you last night." Èolas nodded. "What did he tell you?" Èolas told him everything, though she doubted any of it would interest the White Wizard or Elrond. Gandalf nodded when she had finished.

"Èolas, what is your earliest memory?"

The child was about to answer, but then she remembered a question. "Lord Gandalf, I had a memory in which my mother told my father that you counseled her. You told her to speak to the Lady Galadriel in Lòthlòrien about me," Èolas struggled slightly with the foreign names, but continued. "Why would I need her attention, or yours?"

"I had my reasons, Èolas," Gandalf said mysteriously, looking at Elrond. "I never intended any harm to come to you or your parents."

"When did you have this flashback?" Elrond asked before Èolas could further interrogate Gandalf.

"Yesterday," the child answered. She could feel anticipation building in the room.

"Have you had any other flashbacks or unusual occurrences?"

"Yes, I had a dream about my parents at Helms Deep and then several more on the way here and one just before the feast. At Helms Deep, I saw a strange, bright light and heard unfamiliar voices. What does it mean, though?"

"We aren't certain, yet," the wizard admitted gently. "Èolas, do you remember when the first flashback occurred or what it was?"

Èolas focused for a moment, mentally traveling back. She had been at Helms Deep. He is of the Elven realm,' Èowyn had said. Then Èolas had seen a bright light and heard a voice, but it had not been her mother's. She knew that now. She told Gandalf and Elrond this. "The woman said she loved me and my father would have loved me too, if he knew."

Elrond nodded. "Excuse us for a moment," he said, motioning to Gandalf. They retreated into a corner.

"Did you say Aragorn was in a room with her when he cried out the name?" Elrond asked.

"Yes, he was," Gandalf paused. "Could it be so?"

"I would have thought the Valar would have placed the heir in Gondor instead of Rohan. This country is the most unlikely place for the heir of Numenor. However, that would make it ideal in shielding Isildur's heir from Sauron."

"We need to be certain, though. We must bring her to Aragorn."

"I agree, but let us wait," Elrond urged. "She is weary of memories and questioning. Look!" Gandalf turned to see that the child slept, curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Let us allow her to sleep. She will need her strength."

* * *

Legolas emerged from Meduseld alone. Èomer had gone to the stables to fetch their horses. Now was his time to say farewell to Aragorn. Neither maiden kneeling beside the heir of Isildur heard the Elf descend the stairs.

"Estel," he whispered. Aragorn opened his eyes as Legolas addressed him. "I am leaving for Lòthlòrien, mellon nin. Stay strong until I return." The Ranger smiled and Legolas bent over to be embraced by his beloved friend.

"Just where do you think you're going, laddie?" Gimli had entered the light and didn't look too pleased to see Legolas clad in armor.

"Captain Èomer and I are leading a band of troops to aid Lòthlòrien in their siege."

Gimli glanced at Aragorn, then Legolas, then back at Aragorn. He was deciding, weighing the scales. "If you can go, than I shall accompany you, Master Elf. Fight strong, lad, and be well when we return. Your fortune will see you through yet." Though it was painful, Aragorn rose his right arm, summoning the Dwarf to his side. He embraced him for the last time, alongside Legolas. For a moment, all they had been through together - he, Gimli, and Legolas- flashed through each of their minds. The memory began with Legolas unhappily making Gimli's acquaintance in Rivendell, and continued through Gandalf's fall, Boromir's death, their search for the Hobbits, the battle of Helm's Deep and now this moment. All was silent in reverent memory. The Ranger smiled. Èomer appeared, unnoticed, two steeds following him. He stood still and silent for a moment, allowing the comrades to finish their farewells. Legolas, naturally, was the first to notice him. The Elf stood, smiling back down at Aragorn.

"Hannon lle," Aragorn whispered to both Legolas and Gimli. "Be at peace, my friends. May the Valar protect you both." The distance between them lengthened as the Dwarf and Elf slowly strode toward Arod. Gimli steadfastly looked forward, but Legolas constantly jerked his head back to glance at the friend he would leave behind. Èomer was patient, though. He kept the horses calm although it took much longer than it should have for them to be off. At last, Legolas helped boost Gimli onto Arod's back and swung himself up. Finally, Èomer mounted his steed. Èowyn looked longingly at her brother's sword and shield and he met her eyes, asking her the silent question: would she accompany them? She pondered it for a moment, losing herself in contemplation for that short time, gazing out over the horizon. Then she met her brother's eyes and shook her head in refusal. She could not leave Aragorn now. Èowyn did not blame the others for doing so, but she found not the strength to desert him in her spirit. She cherished each moment she spent with him too much to sacrifice any of them. Èowyn was certain she saw a slight smile-perhaps of relief- play upon Èomer's face, even within the shadow of his helmet. He bowed his head slightly to Aragorn and began the journey, his steed trotting through the streets of Edoras.

Legolas kept glancing over his shoulder to Aragorn lay. He almost could not bear to let him escape his sight, though he knew he must. One couldn't hold onto something or someone forever. There was always a time to let go and the time to release Aragorn might have come. Soon he could see only Èowyn and Arwen beside the bed in which he knew the Ranger still lay. Yet he looked back. As the figures faded into the distance, the Elf silently prayed to the Valar for Aragorn's safety.

"He will be fine, lad. Don't worry," Gimli assured the Elf. Legolas smiled, tears frosting the surface of his eyes. Aragorn was in the hands of the Valar now. Whatever happened now was beyond Legolas' control.

* * *

The sun had just begun to set when Èolas awoke. Elrond and Gandalf sat upon the bed and noticed immediately that she was stirring.

"Come, Èolas," Elrond said, taking her hand and walking briskly down the corridor that led to the Great Hall. Initially, Èolas thought that was where she was being led, but the Elf-lord rapidly continued through the room. Instantly, they were bathed in red sunlight. As soon as they emerged into the fresh air, Aragorn stirred.

"Numëstel," he murmured, almost inaudibly. Elrond turned to the White Wizard, a light in his eyes that did not come from the setting sun. Finally, Elrond Peredhel was certain.

"Elessar Aragorn, behold your daughter."

_Author's Note: Please do not flame me on the concept orthe end of the chapter. I will explain it in the next chapter, but this one was so long already that I felt this was a nice way to end it. What do you think is going on? Let me know and please review. Thank you very much, _

_hannon le - thank you_

_MorniëGalad_


	11. Et Earello: From the Great Sea

_Disclaimer: Although I am responsible for any twists and turns in the road of this story, I do not own the Lord of the Rings. Warning: Character death soon. _

_MorniëGalad_

_**Chapter Eleven: Et Earello** From the Great Sea_

For a moment, four pairs of eyes looked at Elrond. Before anyone Elven or human could say a word, there was a radiant flash of light. It lasted for an instant only, but in that brief moment, the company was blinded and struck with fear. Aragorn gripped both Arwen and Èowyn's hands tighter. Elrond and Gandalf were mountains, but Èolas just stared. Slowly, the light faded and before them was . . .

"Lord Mandos," Gandalf murmured, sinking to his knees, a mirror of Elrond. Èolas was motionless. Aragorn took his eyes off the Vala for a moment to glance at her, wondering what sort of child this was.

"You have discovered the truth," Mandos said, his voice unlike the breeze Numëstel had heard the previous night. His voice now roared like the thunder. "This is Numëstel, hope of the West, the youngest heir of Isildur, and the only heir of Aragorn Elessar." Èolas walked to Mandos and the Vala put a blessed hand on her head.

"How can this be?" Aragorn asked after a moment. His voice quavered, still in shock.

"We became concerned for the future of Gondor, and indeed all of Middle Earth. If you were to have been killed, Aragorn, the hope of Numenor would die with you, since you had no heir. Therefore, we placed you into a deep sleep and from your life a child was born of Nienna. For uncounted years she dwelt with us in Valinor, but then the time came for her to be sent here to fulfill her purpose as your daughter. We sent her to Rohan, for we knew you were destined to arrive here during your quest. She was born to mortal Rohirrim parents and we watched her closely, though Eru prevented us from sparing her some pains of mortal life."

"Like my parents' death," Èolas Numëstel reflected. Mandos nodded slowly.

"So she is part Vala?" Èowyn asked.

"In a sense, she is fully Vala, yet fully Aragorn's heir. We will be watching you, Numëstel." With that, Mandos disappeared in another blinding flash of light.

Èolas Numëstel approached Aragorn. "Adar?" she questioned, her voice the first spring breeze. With tears in his eyes, Aragorn held out his arms and embraced his young daughter. Now, seeing them beside each other, all were astonished at how alike they looked. They had the same, wise, blue eyes and wavy dark hair. Identical smiles lit their faces and the tears in their eyes were the same. As rain that formed a rainbow, droplets of love spilled from the Ranger's eyes as he clung to his child, overwhelmed by what he had been told.

Unnoticed by anyone, King Théoden had arrived when he had heard Lord Mandos' thundering voice. He stood at the top of the stairs, silent, absorbing the sight. So astonished was he that this child, whom he had thought was no more than blessed by the Valar to be alive, was indeed one of the Valar. His people, too, were overcome, for they also had heard Lord Mandos' proclamation and were gathered around the stairs of Meduseld. None of their eyes moved from Èolas Numëstel and Aragorn. Descending upon them was the darkness of night, though none of the people seemed to heed this. The rosy sun had set and the stars emerged, Eärendil himself resting above Meduseld. Yet, the Rohirrim remained until late in the night, when Aragorn had fallen asleep upon his bed with his daughternearby, asleep on the lawn. Èowyn and Arwen slept as well, heedless of the turmoil that lay ahead of them.

Nearly a week had passed and Aragorn's health was deteriorating. He and Numëstel were seldom seen apart. Arwen and Èowyn scarcely left his bedside, either, for they knew all too well that their final day with Aragorn was drawing near. His voice had lost all its intensity and was now little more than a whisper. He could no longer move and constantly was on the watch for Lord Mandos.

As the sun set on the seventh day since Legolas' departure for Lòthlòrien, Elessar stirred. Arwen, Èowyn and Numëstel were all near to him, as were Gandalf and Elrond, his foster father of old. King Théoden sat atop the stairs not far away, so Aragorn whispered for him to come nearer. The king came and stood by his niece.

"Adar, will you fetch Anduril, please?" Elrond nodded. Now he knew the time had nearly come. "I do not see Lord Mandos, but I can feel myself fading. Do you see him, Numëstel?"

"No, ada," she replied, but she too could sense that her father was right. His time to leave this earth had nearly come. As tears filled her eyes, they were mirrored in her dear father's.

"Arwen, Èowyn, will you look after Numëstel, please? I know she is like a younger sister to you, Èowyn."

"She will be a daughter and sister to me,"the Elf maiden whispered. Èowyn nodded and put her arm around Èolas Numëstel. The women took hold of Aragorn's hands, gently. Elrond returned, Anduril in his hands.

"Arwen, take the ring of Barahir from my hand and give it to Numëstel." Arwen slipped the ring from Aragorn's trembling forefinger, tears freely flowing from her immortal blue eyes. Èolas Numëstel extended her own shaking finger to the Elf maiden and soon the ring of Barahir, the ancient heirloom that had been passed down since Barahir himself, rested on her finger.

"The Evenstar belongs to you, Arwen." Undomiel shook her head.

"Give it to your daughter. It is a symbol of love and should remain such." Èowyn tenderly lifted Aragorn's head as Arwen unfastened the jewel. Soon it glimmered around Numëstel's neck.

"These arm guards belonged to Boromir, son of the steward of Gondor. I swore to him that I would not let the White City, Minas Tirith, fall. That duty now rests upon you, my beloved daughter." Numëstel Èolas felt the oath fasten securely on her arms. Next Aragorn would have given her the cloak of Lòthlòrien, but it had been badly ripped from the arrow wound and was essentially ruined. Finally, Elrond placed Anduril on Aragorn's chest.

"No, Anduril shall not die with me. The flame of the west must accompany the hope of the west to victory," Elessar whispered. "Take it, Numëstel." She hesitated, but obeyed. Even in the fading light, each person could see Aragorn Elessar smiling. His arm moved to surround his daughter as Èowyn and Arwen each held one of his hands.

"I love you all," he whispered, barely audible. Numëstel searched the darkness briefly for any sign of Lord Mandos, but saw him not. Her father seemed to hold her tighter. "It is finished." Then Aragorn Elessar, the Elfstone, Dunedain, breathed his last and went to rest with his ancestors. At that moment, a light sprinkle began mingling with the tears upon the faces of those who stood outside Meduseld. Then a shriek pierced the night, but it was not a shriek that instilled terror, for through the steaks of rain, Numëstel Èolas could see a great eagle. No, there were many eagles, crying aloud. They glided down and perched on the hill beside the Golden Hall. Gandalf stirred, his hair and beard dripping.

"Come, my friends. We must make for Lòthlòrien. We will float Aragorn's body down the River Snowborne where it shall join the great Anduin. Théoden King, will you be gracious enough to provide us with a boat." Théoden nodded. "His body will eventually reach the sea after it passes therealm of Gondor." Théoden soon found a boat. They bore Aragorn's body in his deathbed until they came to the river. The body was then placed in the boat, which was placed in the water by Numëstel Èolas and the White Wizard. Slowly, reverently, the river sent the small boat on its last dreamy voyage.

"Namarië, mellon nin," Gandalf whispered.

"Namarië, adar," Numëstel cried silently as the mist of the spray of the Snowborne River veiled him from sight.

_Author's Note: How did I do? Just a note, Èolas and Numëstel are the same person. From hence on, she will be called by either name, mostly Numëstel, though. Either one is her. Reviews are very helpful, but please, no flames. This chapter was a risk for me and not an easy one towrite, but I had to do it. Hannon lle, _

_MorniëGalad_

_P.S. This is not the end of the story. _

_MorniëGalad_


	12. A Light Born of Shadow

_Disclaimer: Obviously I still do not own Lord of the Rings. Numëstel/Èolas is my character, however. Don't go searching for her anywhere in the books because you won't find her. Reminder: Numëstel means hope of the west. _

_Warning: Violence in this chapter._

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_**A Light Born of Shadow**_

"Eru!" Numëstel Èolas cried at the heavens when her father had forever disappeared from her sight. "Why? Why have you forsaken us?"

Elrond placed his arm around the child. Though weeping tears had not yet left his own face, he spoke to her, who was now the heir of Isildur and to the throne of Gondor. "The time to grieve the loss of your father without interruption will come, Numëstel, but now you have a duty to Middle Earth. These eagles have come to bear us to Lòthlòrien and it is there that you must go, for the sake of this world. The sword in your hand is Anduril, and rightly was it named, for it is the flame of the West; It will deal Sauron a mighty blow in Lòthlòrien. Come, there is no more time for delay." The Elf lifted Numëstel onto the back of one of the eagles and the others followed suit, Èowyn accompanying Numëstel. Théoden warily mounted, but voiced no objections to his niece's intention to accompany them. So thus the company, borne by the eagles, consisted of Numëstel Èolas, heir of Gondor, Gandalf the White, Elrond half-Elven, his daughter Arwen Undomiel, King Théoden of Rohan, and Èowyn, the White Lady. The eagles ascended into the heavens and Théoden clung noticeably tighter to the neck of his bearer. Soon the Anduin stretched below them.

"Lòthlòrien!" Numëstel, the first to lay eyes upon the fair land, exclaimed. As they landed, she saw sparks of golden leaves, the symbol of spring, amidst the destruction. Only a short distance away, the child could see the Orcs and the Elven warriors. The servants of Mordor had made their way within the boundaries of Lorien and the Elves were not faring well. Just as the eagles set foot on the soil, a piercing screech sliced through the air. As if in answer, Numëstel leapt off her messenger and walked calmly, but quickly, to the battle front. Èowyn stared after the child in disbelief for a moment and then the eagles were riderless.

A face as empty and dark as a void did turn his focus to them and Numëstel knew him immediately. He was the Lord of the Nazgûl, the most powerful servant of the Eye, the Witch King of Angmar. A few meters behind her, Gandalf gestured to Numëstel to fall back to his side, but she either did not notice or paid him no heed. She continued to glide between the combatants to where the minion stood. A hissing noise filled the air, like a final, labored breath. Neither opponent said a word, but stood as still as the trees for a moment, each deeply pondering the other. Arwen later said she saw a glint in Numëstel's eyes that was pure pity and, perhaps, some strange form of compassion. Then her resolve seemed to harden and she grasped the hilt of Anduril.

At this, the Witch King breathed a whisper of death, cold, black mist rising from beneath his hood. The fog engulfed Numëstel from view for moments that dragged on for eternity. Her friends stood still, the battle raging slowly about them, fearing the worst. Suddenly, a band of pure light formed a crack in the darkness and it began to crumble, being overwhelmed by the brilliance of the light. The Nazgûl was taken aback by the overwhelming brilliance that was spreading from his opponent. The darkness of the Mordorian minion had been dispelled and Numëstel now stood before the combatants wreathed in a fog of golden light which began to flow forth from her and sprinkled down on the land of Lorien, growing in intensity. All those who fought with the free folk later attested that they felt hope and strength renewed within them. Whatever the enemy felt, it was stronger than the resolve of all but their strongest leader, for the Orcs and all save the Nazgûl fell into disarray. Even the Witch King seemed tofalter for an instant, though he remained for a to the last, standing his ground, watching his followers flee, unable to inspire them to stand and fight, though he tried. At last, he spurred his beast into the sky and disappeared. Numëstel watched him leave, still as stone, knowing well he would return soon enough.

---

Legolas lay on the ground of Lòthlòrien, badly injured. His eyes were closed, but through them he could still see the glory that had enveloped Lòrien. It seemed to be coming closer. Had it all been true, or was he dying, slipping away to the Halls of Mandos? He forced his eyes open, wondering what sight would meet them. From the light a figure approached him. "Elessar."

"It is not so," replied a voice he knew, but could not place.

How could this person not be Aragorn? He could only see the outline, but it was the man's exact image, the hair the poise of the body; every detail was Aragorn's likeness . . . except the figure's height. It was lacking a bit of Aragorn's stature.

"Who are you?" Legolas asked.

"I am Èolas Numëstel," she hesitated. " Aragorn's daughter. That will be explained later. Come, rise, Legolas." The blinding light diminished and before him stood Èolas, the same child he had met at Helm's Deep. Yet, she was changed in some ineffable manner.

Then a sudden feeling of dread came over him and his blue eyes met her younger ones. "Aragorn?" he questioned, his voice quivering as if he already knew the answer she would give.

"He has passed to the Halls of Mandos," the child whispered. "Come, we must get you to shelter." She placed Legolas's arm around her shoulder. His weakness was obvious, but it was not only physical exhaustion that plagued him. He leaned heavily on the child, though he tried not to. She did not utter one complaint, for his body was surprisingly light. As they passed through the desolation and masses of bodies, both Elven and Orc, Gandalf came up beside them, Èomer at his side.

"Èolas!" Èomer exclaimed. "Why have you come here?" He was not angry, merely concerned for her safety; this was apparent.

"I was told I was needed," she said simply, smiling briefly at him. For an instant, Èomer thought he saw a pure light radiating from her blue eyes. Legolas must have noticed it too, for he dropped to his knees. The captain of Rohan followed suit, his eyes never leaving the child.

"Who are you, Èolas?" he asked in wonder.

"She is one of the Valar," Legolas breathed. "But how?"

"All shall be made clear in time," Gandalf said, placing a hand on Numëstel's shoulder. "Come, Legolas. You are injured and must be tended to."

"Come, mellon nin," Numëstel whispered, extending her hand to him. Reluctantly, the Elf accepted it and she pulled him up. They had gone only a short way when they heard a cry from behind them. "Lad! Lad!"

"Gimli, there are many wounded who must be tended to. I cannot see to them all myself. Gimli! Gimli!" Elrond frantically hollered after the Dwarf, desperately trying to stop him before he reached the group and struck a wound. His pleas were useless, though, for the Dwarf was determined. Barely an instant later, his arms were wrapped around Numëstel. The impact was so great that Legolas had to cling to Gandalf to avoid being thrown to the ground.

"Lad, you made it! You are by far the luckiest man I know. The Valar shine upon you!" Then Gimli opened his eyes and saw that the figure he was embracing was not as tall as the man he had expected. Slowly, he released his hold and Numëstel turned around, tears in her eyes. "Èolas?" the Dwarf questioned, but the child turned and dashed away before anyone could say another word.

"Èolas!" Elrond called after her, but she did not heed his voice and her young legs brought her far away. Tears streaming down her face like a waterfall she ran until she could go no further then collapsed in a clearing. Almost immediately, her eyes closed from exhaustion and a deep sleep fell upon her.

"Numëstel," a voice called. Her eyes opened automatically. The sky above her was a beautiful shade of blue and it seemed to call her to rise. She sat up and glanced around. "Numëstel," someone called again, ever so gently. At the far entrance of the clearing, Èolas Numëstel saw a woman dressed in flowing white garments. She came toward the child like a summer breeze over the ocean waters. This was, of course, the lady Galadriel of Lòthlòrien, but Èolas Numëstel did not know her. Standing alert, as if she feared this was a servant of the enemy, she asked who this was and the Lady answered her in truth.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, choosing what seemed to be the most pressing question among the many that conflicted in her mind.

"Elrond, Gandalf, and I know much about you. We knew of the Valar's plan to bring about the birth of the heir of Elessar. I knew the moment I saw you that you were the heir, Numëstel, daughter of Aragorn. You look so like him, though I'm certain you know that." Numëstel nodded slightly, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Numëstel," another gentle voice, which she knew to be Elrond's, called. The Elf entered the clearing in a sprint, but slowed when he saw Galadriel and the child. "Are you all right?" he asked, extending his arms to embrace Aragorn's daughter. The child accepted the familiar, loving embrace and allowed her tears to fall. "Not all tears are evil, my child," he whispered as she clung to him. After a while, he untangled her arms from around his neck and held her at arm's length. "Legolas has been asking for you."

"How is he?" Galadriel probed.

"He lives," Elrond said hesitantly, but both his companions knew he was withholding something from them. Numëstel cleared her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Take me to him," she said, taking Elrond's hand. The Elf lord led her out of the clearing beneath the tall mallorn trees. "He refuses to let me treat him," Elrond whispered. "Legolas loved your father dearly. Now I fear he wants to join him in death."

Èolas' eyes grew wide in horror. "No!" she whispered in shock. Then, louder, "No!" she hollered. With that, she broke into a sprint, forgetting all about exhaustion. "Legolas!" she screamed as she entered the place where the warriors had made camp. She saw Gimli near one of the tents. "Where is he?" she demanded, grasping his shoulders to stop the momentum that propelled her. Gimli took her arm and led her into one of the nearby tents.

Legolas lay pale on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, as if he was waiting for death to take him. "Legolas," Numëstel called his name. "Look at me." He blinked, but refused to turn his head. "Look at me," she said again. This time, her voice possessed the power that was due to it. Legolas had no choice but to obey her command. "Legolas Greenleaf, there is a reason, ordained by the Valar, that you survived this battle. You are needed on this earth yet." Numëstel choked back tears as she thought of her father, yet she continued. "I don't know why my father had to die, but you have the chance to live, to carry on. In a way, he can live on in you." Though he didn't speak, the tears in Legolas's eyes told the child that her words had been heard. His face, though, still seemed set on death. "Aragorn would want you to carry on. This world needs people like you, who do not give up and seek death in the face of the seemingly unbeatable darkness. Don't give up, please." She was begging now, tears falling unabashed from her eyes. "We need you to carry on, mellon nin," she whispered, taking his hand in hers, stroking his sweat-covered hair back with her other hand. "We both have to be strong and carry on." At last, the look of death melted away from his face. His body racked with sobs, he gently squeezed Numëstel's hand, conveying to her that he would do as she asked.

Elrond drew back the tent flap and approached the couple. Legolas said nothing, but nodded at the healer. The elder Elf gently peeled away the blood stained sheets and began to remove Legolas's upper clothing. Numëstel turned to go, but Legolas squeezed her hand again and she returned to his side. "Hannon le," he whispered. For the first time since she had seen him this day, a smile passed over his immortal face. Then his gaze fell upon Anduril, which was still strung to Èolas's side and the smile extended to his eyes, but held a sadder tone. "Did he pass peacefully?"

"Yes," Elrond replied. "He was surrounded by many of his friends and I know you were in his thoughts."

"His death will be avenged," Legolas growled, his eyes burning with a live fury, "On this I swear." Before Elrond could stop him, Legolas released his hold on Numëstel's hand, grasped his sword and drew it deep into his right hand. He then collapsed onto the bed, exhausted even from the small effort.

Elrond sighed as he bandaged the hand. 'You are already lacking enough blood, Legolas,' he thought. 'Must you further endanger your life?' Just as he finished, Gandalf entered.

"How are you faring, Master Elf?" he inquired as he made room for Gimli and Èomer to move in.

"I'm fine," Legolas said, rising to meet his friends with a great effort to conceal the difficulty of the feat. Gimli breathed an obvious sigh of relief beneath his armor.

"Our casualties were surprisingly low," Èomer reported. "This is indeed a blessed realm. I must apologize for my disbelief when you tried to tell me so," he bowed to both Legolas and Gimli, a slight smile on his face. Then his face became serious again. "Now we must deal with Saruman."

_Author's Note: Èomer's last reference comes from the Two Towers. Lòthlòrien is not mentioned in the movie when he encounters Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, but that is where it is from. I do not intend to insult the intelligence of anyone who has read the books, merely provide an explanation for anyone who may have only seen the movies. Thank you for reading and reviews are always appreciated as long as they're not complete flames. Thank you very much. And remember, next chapter, they deal with Saruman. (He's in trouble isn't he (mwahaha))._

_MorniëGalad_


	13. The Fading of the Rainbow

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. Though I created Numestel from Tolkien's concepts, I cannot be held responsible for her actions when she meets Saruman. Much of this chapter is taken from page 201 etc . . . of the Two Towers.

Elvish translations:

Mae dhu goodnight

Aina queen

Valinorhini child of Valinor

Namarie farewell

Chapter Thirteen: The Fading of the Rainbow 

After the pain of burying those killed in the battle of Lothlorien and caring for the wounded, the company decided to pass the night in the security of the Golden Wood. As night fell, the stars arose in brilliance and beautiful Elven voices whisped through trhe wood. Legolas and Numestel sat in the woods of twilight listening to the melody.

"What are they singing?" she asked after a while, finding she could not understand their words no matter how hard she tried.

"It is a song of victory. Listen, I heard your name." Indeed, as she listened, Numestel understood a word here and there, like Numestel or Lothlorien. Then the mood changed and she heard her father's Elvish name, 'Elessar'. "They are making lament for him, singing of his strength, his compassion and his fall," Legolas whispered, his tear-brimmed eyes meeting the stars mirrored in Numestel's. For a while, they silently comforted each other. Slowly, Numestel gently released the Elf from the spell of her eyes.

"Come, mellon nin. It is late and you must have the strength to set out for Isengard on the morrow." The Elf nodded and they went to his tent and said their goodnights.

Numestel, however, continued to roam the woods, gazing at the trees and the stars. She came upon a glade and heard footsteps approaching. Galadriel descended from a nearby hill, her bare feet scarcely making any noise against the soft grass. The Lady approached her and wordlessly led her to a mysterious fountain.

"Will you look into the mirror, young Numestel, and see what you will?" she asked, speaking for the first time. Numestel felt the great power of the mirror drawing her nearer. She desired to look into it, though she knew not why. What secrets lay hidden within its ripples that she desperately longed to know? She gazed at it in wonder, while Galadriel waited wordlessly for her to make her decision known. The child had unconsciously approached the fountain and was nearly upon it.

"No," Numestel said suddenly, a firmness in her voice confirming her choice. "All the mirror can tell me that I do not already know is the future, which will come when it will. I need see no more."

Galadriel nodded once in understanding. "You made a wise choice, Numestel. I fear there is nothing in the mirror that will aid you in chosing your path. What shall be shall be."

"You should be asleep, Numestel," Elrond said coming up behind her. "Though Lothlorien is timeless, the outside world is not and your strength will be needed tomorrow."

"Lothlorien will not remain unchanged for much longer milord. The time of the Elves is ending as you know well and I wish to absorb the magic and memory of this place before it disappears into memory."

"You truly possess the wsdom of the Valar," Galadriel said, fixing her gaze on the child. "A word of caution: Lothlorien is a realm with great power to fend off the Dark Lord. When you leave this place, you will be of lesser importance in his mind than only one thing: the ring. He will undoubtedly attempt to find you and bring you to his side, for he will have heard from his captain the depth of your power, which is only just making itself known. Be cautious, Numestel, daughter of Aragorn." Galadriel bent over and kissed the child's forehead. "Mae dhu, Numestel." Galadriel turned and strolled away, leaving Numestel and Elrond together.

After a while, the Elf lord spoke. "I knew your father from the time he was born. After his father was killed by Orcs when he was but three years old, I adopted him as my son and brought him and his mother to the safety of Rivendell. I was his father as he grew up and he was as much my son as Elladen and Elrohir, my twin sons, are. I knew he would be true to the name his mother and I chose for him to be called when he was young. Estel was his name until he was old enough to understand his heritage. He was the hope of Middle Earth and you are a continuation of that hope." Elrond sighed. "Even now, I can feel him gazing upon you from far away ."

"I knew him for such a short time."

"He was always with you, though he didn't know it, Numestel. Just so, he is still thinking of you and loving you. A part of him will always be with you no matter where you are. Come, I must show you something."

He led her through the forest for a long time. As they approached the farthest borders of Lorien, Elrond took her arm and brought her to a mound. "This is Hauth en Arwen. When he was in this land, your father stopped here for a brief moment to think and know the truth of love."

For a moment, Eolas Numestel sat upon the great mound in silence, thinking back on all that had transpired. "Why did I not see Lord Mandos when my father died?" she asked, meeting the Elf Lord's eyes. Then in the wind, she heard a voice. "You carried him home, Aina Numestel." She felt the wind embrace her like a hug and her eyes closed in sleep. Elrond lifed her small body tenderly and carried her back to the camp. Her head rested against his chest, her breath tickling his neck. He smiled, remembering what it was like to hold a child. This child, he reminded himself, was the heir of Isildur, now, destined to become the queen of Gondor. The smile lingered on his face and he gave Numestel a gentle hug before placing her in her tent for the night.

The sun rose in the sky several hours latrer, signaling the journey's commencement. Numestel helped the warriors load supplies into the boats which cluttered the shores of Lothlorien. They were nearly ready for departure when the Lady Galadriel appeared, a mist surrounding her.

"I have no gift worthy of you, Valinorhini," she said, smiling tenderly upon Numestel. "Accept this token, though, daughter of Elessar, as a sign of the goodwill of Lothlorien toward you and your kingdom." The lady clothed the child I a cloak like those that had been gifted to the fellowship. She then reached into her robes and brought forth a helmet crowned in golden mallorn leaves. "Like you, Numestel, these leaves will never fade, though winter may come and stay for a thousand years. Namarie." Galadriel bowed once more and kissed Numestel's forehead. Then she stepped further onto the bank beside Celeborn.

"Come, Numestel," Elrond ushered her to a boat with himself and Gandalf. Just as she was seated, the cast off. Galadriel extended a hand in farewell and Numestel placed the helmet on her head as the land of Lothlorien faded from sight and was swallowed in mist. The boat of Legolas Gimli and Eowyn floated nearby; Gimli was wobbing as the realm disappeared and a contented, sad, smile played on Legolas's face as Eowyn controlled the boat. Numestel couldn't help but wonder what the Elf was thinking, but she did not wish to disturb him. He glanced briefly at her and she returned his smile.

Seeing her crowned with the glorious helmet made Legolas wonder what the world was coming to that the splendor of the Valar would join with mortals in the fight for Ennorath. Furthermore, the Valar would bring about victory through a child. These were strange times indeed. She truly is her father's daughter, he thought, turning his gaze to the river.

For several days the travel was ceaseless. At last they abandoned the boats and arrived at the very outskirts of the land of Rohan. They were met by eight horses. It was rather obvious for whom they were intended: King Theoden Eomer, Gamling, and Eowyn of the Rohirrim, Gandalf the White, Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood with Gimli son of Gloin of Erebor to represent the Fellowship of the Ring, Elrond Peredhel to represent the Elven lands, and Numestel, daughter of Aragorn. They had been summoned by Radagast the Brown who had received word from Gandalf indicating the need for haste. The remainder of the multitude was given the option of striking out for Isengard on foot or returning to their homes until they were needed. Though most chose the latter, some followed the company.

At dawn many days later, the company of light, as they came to be known as, arrived at Isengard. The fog had not yet lifted from the drenched bog that surrounded the tower, but through it the keen eyes of Legolas distinguished two small figures basking in the security of a wall that had been destroyed. He leapt from his steed, heedless of his wounds and Gimli's protests that he was stranded, and bounded through the water that lapped at his legs to embrace his comrades. No one could see the tears of mixed emotions that stained his eyes.

"Merry! Pippin!" His joyous cries pierced the silent morn. The three shared a brief, joyful reunion until a great shadow rested above them.

"Master Gandalf," the great Ent greeted the powerful wizard. "Who are these who accompany you?" Gandalf proceded with introductions as Gimil managed to get off his horse and slosh over to the Hobbits. For secrecy's sake, Numestel was introduces simply as Eolas of Rohan. She had removed her helmet and placed it in her pack, concealing all other visible heirlooms which might betray her true identity.

Fangorn escourted the group, along with the Hobbids, toward the tower of Orthanc. The mist began to dissipate and gradually the peak of the tower could be seen from the ground below. While they were still a ways from the tower, Gandalf halted.

"Heed me, all of you. Saruman is no less dangerous now than ever; he is a wild beast trapped in the corner. Only some of us will approach him, but all must take great care. Saruman's voice is his most dangerous weapon and it is ever at his disposal. Theoden King and I along with those who would accompany us, will go as far as the peak of the stairs. The rest of you will wait at the foot of the steps. Even from there you may see and hear too much for your own good."

"For myself I will take with me Eomer and Eolas," Theoden declared. Seeing that Èowyn was about to protest, he raised his hand. "We have come here to speak with this wizard, my fiery niece, not to kill him as you would have it."

"Lord Elrond shall accompany me. Let the others await at the foot of the steps."

"Nay!" Gimli and Legolas declared before Gandalf had finished. The Elf's characteristically calm eyes now flamed with a vengeance intended not for Gandalf, but for the enemy who had murdered his dear friend and many of his kindred. A single glance made it obvious that neither he nor Gimli would be dissuaded. Gandalf nodded in approval, knowing the Dwarf could have bombarded him with justifications to such lengths that nothing would be accomplished. Thus Gandalf, King Theoden, Eomer, Eolas, Elrond, Legolas and Gimli son of Gloin ascended the steps of Isengard.

"Why are we even here, Merry?" Pippin sighed, plopping down upon the bottom step. "For all the benefit we are, we might as well have stayed in the shire."

"We may yet have a larger part to play before this tale is concluded," Merry said slowly, gazing after the seven companions. "Who is this Eolas, Pippin? She's younger than either of us, yet Gandalf did not protest her accompanying them as he would have if we had volunteered."

"King Theoden selected her," Gamling said, approaching the Hobbits. "His reasons need not be shared at this time. Eolas is necessary to this encounter, just as you must be in your place here. We all must play our own part, my young friends."

"Saruman," Gandalf called, pounding upon the door of Orthanc with his staff. "Come forth." Immediately, a figure clothed in a strange color appeared upon the balcony above them.

"Well, why must you disturb my rest?" the wizard asked gently. "Three of you are known to me, but I fear the rest are strangers. Gandalf, alas, why have you returned, for I cannot hope that you have come for aid or counsel? You, though, Noble Theoden King, I have longed to see you for many years, my friend. I have greatly desired to break you from the bonds of ill counsel which held you, but you sought me not. Yet it is not too late to see wisdom. I , and I alone, can still aid you." Eolas looked away from Saruman with great effort to see the face of her king. The eyes of th others also gazed upon the lord of Rohan as he looked from Saurman to Gandalf in indecision. Gandalf was motionless, waiting with Elrond beside him. At last, Gimli broke the silence.

"The words of this wizard stand on their heads," he growled, gripping the handle of his axe. "In the language of Orthanc help means ruin and saving means slaying." A light flickered in Saruman's eyes for a moment, but he seemed to have no desire to speak further with the Dwarf. "What do you say, my friend and ally, Theoden, son of Thengel, King of Rohan? Shall we have peace."

Theoden remained silent. Eomer whispered to him. "My lord, this is the very trechery we were warned of. We have not come in victory to the door of this scum only to be poisoned by the honey of his tongue. This slime desires only freedom and will be of no further aid to anyone afterward. Remember, my lord, Theodred who fell at the Fords and the body of Hama at Helms Deep." Eolas met Eomer's eyes from the opposite side of Theoden. The power in his words rose her hand to the shoulder of her king. Saruman was poised to speak, but Theoden did not let him.

"We shall have peace," he declared. "We shall have peace when you answer for all your crimes. When the price of the women and children of the Westfold, dead from your deception and slavery to Mordor, are avenged. We shall have peace when the blood of those whose bodies were mangled at Helms Deep is visited on your head and you hang from a gibbet at your own window while your crows devour you. Then we shall have peace." Saruman was fuming above them, his staff gripped tightly in his left hand.

"I might have expected such foolishness from idiots such as this, but you, Gandalf, surely I can bring you to your senses. Elrond, my wise old friend, certainly the three of us can hold council as we once did. There is a danger arrising in this world more deadly than Sauron himself. I see that Aragorn son of Arathorn is not among you. This saddens me, for with his passing Middle Earth may be condemned to death in darkness. The heir he left was spawned by the Valar, but turned to darkness even denser than that of Sauron. If he is given the opportunity to seize power it will be the end. He must be found and destroyed, my friends. Together we can triumph over him. Will you not come up?" For a moment, a spell was cast upon the entire company, fearing that Gandalf and Elrond would ascend into the tower and abandon them. The two of them looked at each other. Elrond smiled and Gandalf began to laugh. The fog passed.

"Saruman, the guest who must leave by the rioof will not readily enter again through the door," the wizard laughed. Suddenly something whizzed through the air above their heads. An arrow struck the tip of Pippin's toe. It wasn't much of a distraction, but it served Saruman's purpose. While Gandalf and Elrond turned their attention for a split second, Saruman made his move. In an instant, he exerted some weak power and Legolas collapsed beside Eolas. Already weak from his unhealed wounds, he had been the only one effected by the spell.

"No!" Numestel cried and a strong burst of pure light illuminated from her, concentrated on Saruman. It blinded him and his eyes widened in terror.

"Numestel," he whispered, at last recognizing her, falling to his knees, trembling.

"Numestel," Gandalf whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "That will be sufficient." The light faded and she turned her attention to Legolas, who was on his feet, but heavily leaning on Gimli in a subconscious state.

Gandalf held Saruman's gaze intently. "Will you not come down to hold council with us as _you _once did, my old friend?" the white wizard asked in a manner Numestel found far too gentle for the traitor. Legolas was beginning to regain himself, supported by her and Gimli. His skin was disturbingly cold to the touch.

"I'll be all right, Numestel," he whispered weakly.

Up above, Saruman had remained silent, so Gandalf asked again. "Will you come down, Saruman? You need not fear for your life. Though you harbor hatered for us in your heart, it would be in your best interest to accept our offer af friendship again. As you may have guessed, this is the heir of Isildur, though you have been somewhat misinformed about her. Numestel has not forsaken the will of the Valar and she can protect you from your true enemies, as can I. Simply come down and you will be free to go where you will. I must warn you, if you refuse, Numestel may prove to be a more deadly foe than Ennorath has seen since Morgoth." Saruman's face became a deathly shade of white.

"Surely there are conditions to your generous offer, kind Gandalf the Grey," he said, still maintaining his powerful voice.

"Only these: You shall surrender to me the keys of Orthanc and your staff. They will be returned to you when your conduct merits them." Saruman looked as if he were about to display great anger, but Numestel's furious eyes glared up at him. He was the enemy king in a game of chess, greatly outnumbered and held in check by the queen and Gandalf, the castle. For a moment, he faltered, uncertainly. Then he slowly met Gandalf's eyes.

"I shall come down," he said and disappeared into the tower.

"Will he try to cast a spell again?" Eomer asked.

"No; he knows now that Numestel could destroy him if she desired," Elrond assured him. Eomer and Eolas looked uncertainly at him. "Yes she could. You, Numestel, are far more powerful than even you may guess, probably even beyond my knowledge. Saruman would not fear you without good reason."

"There he is," Gimli growled as the door opened, his axe poised.

"Peace, my friend," Legolas whispered. "We will abide by the words of Gnadalf."

Just as Saruman joined the rest of the group, another object flew from the tower. It bounced down the steps below them and landed in a pool of water. Pippin jumped up and dashed after it.

"Wormtongue," Saruman growled. "I am almost glad to be rid of it, though I shall miss its power," he said to himself. Then his gaze fell down the stairs and he stepped backward. Below stood Pippin, a black orb in his hands. In an instant, Gandalf rushed down the stairs and scooped up the globe from the Hobbit's hands.

"I did not ask you to retrieve this, Peregrin Took," the White wizard growled, wrapping the object in the folds of his cloak.

"What is it?" Numestel whispered.

"One of the seven palantiri," Saruman answered her. "I shall not touch one lightly again. Gandalf," he said, extending his staff with one hand and the keys of Orthanc in the other. "While you are in the business of retrieving things, take these as well, according to your word, before I become overly attached to them again." Gandalf placed the keys in his cloak, holding onto the staff for lack of a better place to secure it.

"Let us return to the safety of Rohan now before Master Wormtongue decides to cast more dangerous objects at us. The third time pays for all and his aim may not be as fortunate for us again," Gimli suggested. The others nodded in agreement. Lacking a horse for the Hobbits and Saruman, Numestel and Eomer rode together while Pippin and Gandalf were mounted on Shadowfax. Merry and Eowyn shared her steed with Saruman mounted on Eomer's steed, for Suldun, Numestel's steed, would not bear him. The group then set out on the return journey to Edoras.

Author's note: Well there it is. Thank you for your patience, as it has been almost a year since I updated. I will strive to update more frequently, as it is just a problem of getting my chapters typed and on the internet.

MornieGalad


	14. Through Darkness and Doubt

_Disclaimer: __ I still do not own this. Sorry it's taken so long for an update. I have a lot written and I finally invested in a laptop, so hopefully updates will now be more frequent. _

Chapter Fourteen: Through Darkness and Doubt

"There has been a change of Plans," Gandalf announced as they rode. "We will arrive at Helms Deep tomorrow. From there we will make our way to Dunharrow."

"Where's Helms Deep?" Pippin asked.

"It is the fortress of Rohan less than a day's journey from where we will rest tonight near Dol Barad." The company fell into a vigilance filled with suspicion. Silence devoured them like a lion. Various members of the company, primarily Numëstel and Éomer watched Saruman as if he was a prisoner. Gimli would have as well, but his energies were spent desperately trying to keep Legolas upright. Both nearly toppled off the horse, Gimli losing his balance naturally while Legolas nearly collapsed due to vertigo.

"Stop," Numëstel told her steed, dismounting. Gimli knew Legolas needed someone who could handle a horse riding with him if he should lose consciousness. Nervously, he traded mounted Éomer's steed. "Don't be afraid to fall asleep," Numëstel told Legolas. "I may be young, but as a Rohirrim, I know horses. I can maintain control over this one." Legolas nodded in gratitude and closed his eyes almost immediately. Numëstel's hands rested upon the horse's mane and her arms held the Elf's body secure, the unnatural chill of his skin against her limbs. Despite the great pain he was experiencing, Legolas drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythm of the steed beneath him.

Sitting behind the Elf, the silence seemed to grow tenser for Numëstel. Saruman fidgeted beneath Gimli's gaze. At last the wizard's thick whisper broke the heavy silence. "I'm sorry, milady. For the harm I caused your friend, I truly apologize."

"You can tell him that when he awakens," Numëstel spat, her eyes flaring at the wizard. "Let's see if he believes you any more than I do. You only had one motive for joining our cause: fear. You fear me, and rightly so, and yet you cower from your former master. Without your staff, now, you are powerless, so you think to slip the wool over our eyes to make us your friends again. Well, you may spare me your niceties, Saruman. Your words may win over hearts more aged and wise than mine, but I will never trust you or call you my friend.

"How wrong you are, Numëstel," Saruman sighed.

"Do not call me by that name! A coward like you is unworthy to speak it!" she hissed. The wizard flinched as if he feared the child's very gaze would smite him. Gimli and Éomer looked on with approving eyes much like Éowyn's. The hobbits, on the other hand, seemed to hide from her.

"Numëstel," Elrond called, gently bringing his steed beside hers. "That's enough."

"Do you trust him, Lord Elrond?" Numëstel whispered, surprised.

"Not unreservedly. You must remember, Numëstel, he was once a close friend of both mine and Gandalf's."

"All the more reason his betrayal is deeper. What of my father, whom you loved as a son, killed by his hand, or your kindred who fell at Helm's Deep because of his evil workings?"

"Would you kill him, Numëstel?" Elrond blatantly asked, cutting off what was sure to be a rather long winded rant. Her eyes seemed lit up in surprise; she hadn't expected this question. She didn't answer, but stared at the path ahead of her, fully aware of Saruman's cautious gaze following her. Slowly she turned her head to spare a look for the former lord of Orthanc. Saruman could not meet her eyes. She studied him long, glancing at the path only occasionally. At last, she breathed a defeated sigh, her hands clutching her horse's mane ever tightly. Elrond had his answer. No, she couldn't have killed him. "Gimli would in a heartbeat if he were given the chance."

"This doesn't concern Gimli." Elrond corrected her. "Numëstel, when you become the queen of Gondar, which you are destined to, you will have to exact justice for your people. You will have the steward and councilors to aid you, but your final word will be set in stone as law and legend."

The child nodded her understanding. "He does not deserve death. If he had refused Gandalf's offer, imprisonment in Orthanc would be justified. As it is, he has joined us, regardless of his motives. He has provided hostages, per se, that will be returned upon good behavior," Numëstel sighed. "You and Gandalf have made a wise decision. I am sorry I questioned you."

"Young one, it is through questions that we learn and grow. Through this and further experiences you will become much wiser. I can feel your knowledge and empathy growing already," Elrond said, smiling faintly.

Numëstel smiled back, but suddenly her attention turned elsewhere. Elrond scanned the area, but saw nothing unusual. "Numëstel?" he questioned. She started, but the steadfast steed beneath her ignored the movement. "What is it?"

"I saw a vision," the child answered shakily. Elrond's look pressed her on. "I saw a battle at Minas Tirith as the wrath of Mordor ensued. A fleet of ships came and I led a group of soldiers to the battlements. Then I saw," she paused, wishing she could forget the memory. "I saw you, but I couldn't reach you." Numëstel broke off and tore her gaze away from the Elf's.

"Numëstel, I have long foreseen what you have not yet said. Tell me, ionanin," he urged.

"Sauron's chief minion, the lord of darkness claimed you," Numëstel whispered. "Will this happen?"

"Nothing is certain, child. Whatever happens, do not fear. I have no fear of death." Numëstel nodded in understanding.

They rode in silence until after nightfall when they made camp at Dul Baran. Legolas began to stir as the others made camp.

"How are you feeling?" Numëstel asked between trips for firewood.

"Better than I was, milady," the Elf whispered. "Hannon Lle." As Numëstel rose from the Elf's side, Saruman approached.

"Lord Elrond and Gandalf wish to speak with you," he told Numëstel. The child started in their direction, but paused when she saw Saruman had not left Legolas's side. "I am sorry for my actions, Master Elf," she heard the wizard whisper. He offered no other explanation, but rose and strode away in the opposite direction. Numëstel sighed and continued on her way.

Far from their company, the wizard, the Elf lord and the child held their council. They spoke of many secrets and ancient wisdom of the world. Numëstel never told all of what was said that night to any other living being, for they spoke, unheard by other ears, for hours. When at last they returned to the camp, the moon was descending from its lofty perch in the heavens.

Elrond and Gandalf fell asleep almost immediately, but Numëstel wandered through the camp, feeling uneasy. As she came to where Legolas lay, she tried to be cautious so as not to awaken him.

"I'm awake, Numëstel," the Elf whispered, startling her.

"You should be sleeping," the child said, bending down to meet his eyes.

"There is some strange evil at work here tonight, so powerful that I cannot find rest. The clouds are settling in above the stars. Sauron is restless in the East this night."

"Because of Saruman's actions?"

"I do not know," the Elf admitted. The tone of his voice startled Numëstel, for he sounded weak and helpless, so unlike the side of Legolas she knew. Cautiously her hand met his. Although his face was sweating with fever, his hand was icy cold. "Don't worry, Numëstel. I will be fine. At that moment exhaustion overtook the Elf and his breathing slowed to a rhythmic crawl. Numëstel stayed with him for a while longer, but soon uneasiness grew upon her again. Just as she returned to where Gandalf slept in hopes that his presence would comfort her, Numëstel saw one of the Hobbits sneaking through the camp. "Pippin!" she hissed as she recognized him. He whirled around, nearly dropping the object in his hands. "Numëstel!"

Upon approaching, Numëstel saw that he held the palantir of Orthanc, one of the ancient seeing stones. "Pippin, what have you done?"

"Nothing," he stammered, his face going pale.

Numëstel paused a moment, deciding what to do. "Give it to me, Pippin." The Hobbit hesitated. "Give it to me and I shall not tell Gandalf what you have done." Pippin extended his hands, offering her the stone, still veiled by the cloth with which Gandalf had covered it. As soon as Numëstel's hands were upon it, thought, the fabric blew free of its own accord. She tried to pry her eyes from the orb, for it had caught her at unawares, yet she could not. Pippin looked on, helpless, as the palantir thrust Numëstel to the ground. She seemed to be fighting for control over something. She made no sound, but from somewhere in the darkness came a scream, which jolted Pippin to his senses.

"Gandalf!" he cried. The sound of his voice brought Numëstel to her feet. Gaining control, she covered the palantir just as the wizard and Elrond appeared. Merry soon followed them as did the rest of the camp.

"Numëstel, are you all right? What happened?" Elrond asked.

"Did you look into the palantir?" Gandalf demanded, taking it from her grasp.

Numëstel nodded. "I saw Sauron; he believes I am a prisoner in Orthanc. I also saw Minas Tirith, engulfed in the shadow of Mordor."

"Are you all right?" Elrond asked again.

Numëstel nodded. "I am not hurt."

"Gandalf," Pippin spoke up. "I'm the one who took the palantir from you. Numëstel took it from me to keep me from looking into it. Then the cloth blew away as she took it." Both Elrond and Gandalf seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"We will decide our course of action when the morning comes." Elrond decided. "For now, it is best that we get what rest we can." The crowd quickly dispersed, but Gandalf and Pippin remained.

"Go to sleep, Pippin," Gandalf gently told him. Glancing up at Numëstel one last time, Pippin did as he was told. As soon as the Hobbit was out of sight, Gandalf held the veiled orb out to Numëstel. "It is yours by right. Pippin must not know where it is or he may try to take it again out of unconscious curiosity. I know he meant no harm." Gandalf lowered his voice. "Do not tell anyone you have it." Numëstel nodded, concealing the palantir cautiously within the folds of her robe. "Now you must sleep, Numëstel."

Numëstel watched the wizard as he disappeared into the night. Despite the exertion that had been necessary to control the palantir, she could not find rest. She wandered through the camp with no clear purpose. Suddenly a hand reached out and grasped her shoulder.

"Do not scream," said a familiar female voice.

"Nanaeth," Numëstel whispered. "Milady Arwen," she corrected herself.

Arwen raised her hand, hinting she was becoming fond of the first title Numëstel had used. "My horse found me soon after your party left. I at last have reached you, young one." The Elf embraced the child. "You need your rest, young queen. I shall watch over you. Come, there is another who also needs my protection tonight." They strode to the place where Legolas lay restless, Gimli at his side.

"Numëstel," he whispered weakly. "I wanted to go to you when I sensed the darkness rising, though I did not know from whence it came, but my body would not obey."

"The scream from the dark?" Numëstel questioned.

Legolas nodded. "It was all I could do."

"Hannon Lle," she whispered back.

"If you two do not rest, you will be of no use to us in the morning," Arwen reprimanded them, her eyes falling particularly on Legolas. The Elf nodded, closing his eyes with fatigue. Numëstel lay down a few yards away. Gimli and Arwen sat strong and vigilant as statues. At last the child fell asleep, the cares of the day gone for a few short hours.


End file.
